


The Odds are Good

by tacosandflowers



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Extreme Sports, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor Minty, Minor Raven/Wick, Slow Burn, whitewater kayaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 79,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacosandflowers/pseuds/tacosandflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks down at her and it's kind of too much, the wine and the emotions of the day coming down on her all at once, and there's something there in the depths of his eyes that's knocking on a door she keeps shut inside. So she buries her face against his upper chest and rests her cheek against him. She can feel his breath against her hair and she can smell his clean, masculine scent and feel the texture of his clean-shaven jawline if she moves her head just so. </p><p>His arms tighten around her and she feels like this is the physical manifestation of how they make each other feel safe, the way they'd talked about the night after she'd stitched him up. The way they fit perfectly together, balancing each other as they lean into one another and just hold on through the song.</p><p>**</p><p>Clarke Griffin has whitewater in her blood, and nobody knows the river better than Bellamy Blake. She's intrigued. </p><p>or</p><p>The whitewater kayaking AU that nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a playlist! Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLV7ort6sYr5AFtSH12pPnQXoVLUY9SEh0
> 
> A few things inspired this story. First, I wanted to write Clarke and Bellamy in a kinder, gentler world without intense trauma and grief driving the storyline, but still have something be intense enough that they bond through shared handling of difficult situations (which is the bread and butter of Bellarke, imo), so hello extreme sports. And second, I wanted to write them in a long-term, friends-to-lovers kind of relationship, because I’m a masochist, apparently. 
> 
> Whitewater rapids are rated on a scale of Class I-VI, with I being slow-moving flatwater and VI being completely unrunnable. The hardest whitewater people can paddle is class V+. Also, individual rapids on rivers have names, typically. And the town where the story is set is fictional, but a lot of the rivers are real.
> 
> There’s a lot of river lingo in here. Like any sport, whitewater kayaking has a language of its own, so I do my best to define terms but I will inevitably miss some. Linguistic details are such a key part of building a world like this, so I’m trying achieve a measure of authenticity without confusing the reader. I will likely fall short in this venture, so here’s a good glossary of whitewater terms, should you find yourself lost: http://www.watergirlsatplay.com/blog/glossary-of-basic-white-water-kayaking-terms/
> 
> Special thanks to queenofchildren for looking over various drafts and helping me get things going. And thanks to everyone for reading!

The first time Bellamy Blake lays eyes on Clarke Griffin, she’s standing above the biggest rapid on the Green River, a class V waterfall called Gorilla, and he thinks to himself, _no way that one’s going to run it_.

 

He and Miller, one of his closest friends and whitewater kayaking buddies, have just pulled their kayaks into the eddy above the rapid, also referred to as a “drop.” They’re locals. They run this river, situated about thirty minutes outside of their hometown of Arkville, North Carolina, several times a week, all year round, so they don’t have to get out to scout the drop. But most people do. They scout to decide what line they’ll take, or if they decide they don’t want to run it, they’ll portage their kayaks around it and get back in the river below the waterfall.

 

The small blonde woman and her crew of two others are scouting the drop. Gorilla is some serious shit. Class V is rated as such because the risk factor is so high. To successfully paddle a class V rapid, one must be technically precise, and if one is not, the consequences are high. A lot of people paddle the Green River for years and portage around Gorilla every time, because it’s that much of a risk.

 

So he doesn’t expect her to run it. Very few women run Gorilla. Normally he and Miller would continue on and keep paddling, but as the blonde and her companions start heading back to their boats, he decides to stay and make sure they portage safely.  

 

Clarke Griffin has been kayaking since she was eleven years old, and she feels like every second of her time on the water has led her to this moment. She takes one last look at Gorilla before nodding to her crew. Wells Jaha and Raven Reyes are two of her closest paddling companions and friends, and they had driven down to the southeast together with some other people from their college’s kayaking club to spend their spring break paddling some of the best whitewater in the country.

 

The Green is the most infamous of the rivers they’re paddling. It’s a steep creek, which means that it has a high gradient and a relatively low volume of water flowing through it. The fact that the Green’s flow is regulated by a hydroelectric dam upstream that releases consistent levels of water throughout the year makes it a favorite for kayakers because consistent levels mean it runs on a regular basis and is of predictable difficulty. In other words, it’s a great training ground for technical class V kayaking. Its proximity to the Green is one of the reasons Arkville is home to some of the best kayakers in the world. 

 

Clarke and her friends have all dreamed of running the Green since they started kayaking, and she wouldn’t want to be out there with anyone else—besides her Dad, of course. But he’s back in California, cheering her on from afar. Wells and Raven aren’t going to run Gorilla. It’s significantly harder than the rest of the rapids on the river and they’re happy to walk rather than take the risk. Clarke, who has been paddling much longer than the others and is capable of running more difficult stuff, had been waiting to scout the drop before deciding whether or not she’d run it. It’s been the plan all along, and after scouting, she feels good, ready.

 

She notices as they walk back to their boats that the eddy above Gorilla is now occupied by two guys who look like Arkville locals. Arkville is something of a whitewater city, with the concentration of people who participate in extreme sports being quite high due to the city’s location on the edge of the Smoky Mountains, making it an ideal place for kayaking, rock climbing, and mountain biking, among other sports. These are the kinds of guys who run the Green all the time, who use it as a training run. She can tell by their gear, which is well loved and of the best quality, made mostly by local companies, and by their attitudes. Because Green River locals are known for of policing their backyard run, she thinks as she gets close enough to see the facial expression on one of the guys, which falls very much under the category of “bad cop.” 

 

Bellamy sizes them up as they approach. “Out of towners,” he remarks to Miller, stating what they both already know.

 

“They’re a group from a college up north,” Miller says. “They’ve been paddling around the area for a week or so, on their spring break.”

 

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”

 

Miller shrugs. “Ran into them at a party the other night. They seem pretty cool.”

 

The crunch of rocks next to the eddy signals their arrival, and Bellamy turns back to face them, fully expecting them to hitch their boats onto their shoulders and walk around the drop. So he can’t hide the surprise on his face when the blonde slides her kayak—a lime green creek boat that’s a smaller version of the one he’s in—to the edge of the eddy, gets back inside, and tugs her spray skirt around the rim of the cockpit, all with a look of fierce determination on her face.

 

He realizes two things: she is beautiful—her sparkly green helmet and light purple life jacket bring out a piercing shade of blue in her eyes—and she is young. He’s twenty-four, so it’s not like he’s super old or anything, but this one doesn’t look a day over eighteen.

 

Clarke is running the drop in her mind already, plotting out her moves stroke by stroke, and she is irritated by the look on this guy’s face that she catches as she yanks her spray skirt into place. He’s looking at her the way bone-headed, macho kayaker men always look at her before she runs something like this, like she’s too small and too female to handle it. Like she can’t possibly be serious.

 

She can barely keep her eyes from rolling. This shit, _again_. This was nothing new to her, being underestimated by men. As a woman in a male-dominated extreme sport, you got used to it early on. Clarke’s not intimidated by it. She’s been proving them wrong for years.

 

“You going for it?” the jerk asks, not even trying to hide the incredulity in his voice.

 

Clarke skewers him with a look. “Do I need your permission?” she bites out, daring him to give her more grief.

 

He shakes his head, and his look calms down a little. He looks vaguely familiar. The whitewater world is a small one and she figures she probably met him at a party or on a river somewhere. There was a saying about the gender imbalance and the chances a girl in the sport had of finding a guy: _The odds are good, but the goods are odd._ Because kayaker dudes were a type. A scruffy, macho, dirt-baggy type with a love for whitewater that comes above pretty much everything. Clarke’s used to being surrounded by them, from her dad’s friends when she was a kid to her kayaking friends in college. So sue her if they all kind of blend together in her head at times.

 

“Not if you can handle it,” he says, his voice gruff, and she notices for the first time how intense his eyes are.

 

She holds his gaze, her eyes becoming flinty in response. “I can handle it. Now, are _you_ going to run it? Or are you going to chat all day and hold up the line?”

 

The guy’s friend smirks, holding back a laugh, and Clarke decides she likes that kayaker boy better than his grumpy companion. She does remember meeting this one at a party they went to in Arkville just the other night. Nathan is his name, she thinks. He’s okay in her book, because he clearly sees through the other guy’s shit.

 

“We’re going to set safety at the bottom, Clarke,” Wells says, giving a small wave as he starts to walk around the rapid.

 

“Thanks, Wells,” Clarke replies.

 

“You’re gonna crush it, Clarke,” he says, grinning as he gives a thumbs up.

 

“You got this, Clarke,” Raven says, stopping to pound her fist against Clarke’s before she turns to follow Wells.

 

Clarke smiles, appreciating their support—especially the dirty look Raven fires at the overprotective local before she goes, although he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s still glaring at Clarke. She loves her crew. She gives them a little wave and then gets back to focusing, not caring that this idiot is still staring at her. She doesn’t have time to worry about him. She needs to get in the right headspace to run a clean line, and she takes a deep breath and begins to fully prepare.

 

Bellamy watches the blonde prepare and knows she’s tuned him out. He decides he’s ready to go, but he’s still wary about this young girl about to run one of the hardest rapids in the southeast. She looks like she’s thought it through and is getting her game-face on, which is a good sign, but he’s still worried enough that he makes a plan.

 

“Miller, I’ll see you in the eddy at the bottom?” he says, sticking his paddle in the water and heading for the eddy-line.

 

“Sounds good,” Miller replies. They usually run it straight through and keep paddling afterwards, on to the next set of rapids immediately below Gorilla, but this time Bellamy wants to stop. He wants to be sure that, if something happens when this girl runs the drop, they’re there to assist with the rescue.

 

After one last glance at the blonde, who is concentrating so hard on a spot in the water of the eddy that he thinks she might turn it into vapor, Bellamy peels out and feels the rush he always gets when he runs this drop. There are a few smaller entrance rapids above it, and he lets the current take him until it’s time to make his move. He plants his strokes the way he has for years, with just the right amount of pull at the right time. At the lip of the drop, he plants his paddle near his right knee and uses his core strength to keep the bow of the boat up, and he’s airborne.

 

The roar of the water around him rushes in his ears and the feeling of flying is like nothing else in the world, and he lands in the spray at the bottom with a surge of satisfaction over another solid line. Fuck, he _loves_ kayaking. The only thing that feels better is sex, he’s sure.

 

He eddies out below and soon Miller is flying over the lip as well, letting out a “whoop!” as he lands and paddles over to Bellamy.

 

“I just want to make sure this chick’s okay,” Bellamy says, nodding back towards Gorilla.

 

“Yeah, I get you,” Miller replies. “From what I’ve heard, she’s legit.”

 

“Clarke’s a badass,” someone says, and they turn to find her companions standing there, one of them holding a throw-rope. Bellamy is happy to see they’re practicing river safety. Not everybody out here does, and it can lead to trouble.

 

“Yeah, she’s been kayaking since she was a kid,” the brunette with the surly face adds.

 

“How old are you guys?” Bellamy asks, not caring how rude he sounds.

 

“We’re sophomores in college,” the guy says. “Twenty.”

 

“Hmm,” Bellamy says, thinking how they’re not much older than his little sister, who is definitely too young to be out paddling the Green, even though she would kill to do it (he’d first paddled the Green at age seventeen, she always reminds him, and he has to find yet another way to tell her “do as I say, not as I do”).

 

Just then there’s a flash of color above the drop and they all watch as the bright green kayak flies over the lip, its occupant crouched forward with her paddle tucked to the side, in perfect formation. She lands in the rush of water at the bottom and sits up straight, raising her paddle triumphantly above her head as she lets out a joyful scream of “Yeah, motherfuckers!” Bellamy is stunned.

 

Clarke pulls into the eddy next to Bellamy, her boat bumping into his, and she’s grinning so widely at her friends as they congratulate her that she feels like her face could split in half. She’s filled with joy and relief after a clean run. It had all gone according to plan, from the first drop into the entrance rapid at the top to her landing at the bottom. Being airborne off the drop had been unreal, the light filtering through the mist like everything was glowing along with her energy. It’s the pursuit of that feeling that drives her passion for kayaking, and she feels like she’s on top of the world.

 

And the look on the jerk’s face is priceless. She knows she’s floored him. When dealing with the doubts of men and their egos, her m.o. was give them hell and then run the drop better than they ever could. That always wiped the smirks right off their faces. She’d wiped the doubt right off of his, and that felt amazing, almost as satisfying as finally running Gorilla after years of dreaming about it. She can’t keep the grin off her face as she meets his gaze and finds something new that wasn’t there before: respect.

 

Bellamy’s stomach jolts as Clarke’s shining eyes catch on his momentarily. He knows the joy of running a big drop like that, especially for the first time, so he gets it. She was beautiful above the drop, getting ready to run it, but now that she’s done it, she is absolutely radiant. He feels a tug of… something, some kind of aura she has about her, which is ridiculous, really, and means it’s time to leave.

 

“Nice line,” he says to her with a nod, because it really was a beautiful line. Miller was right. This chick—Clarke—is legit.

 

“Thanks,” she says, nodding back.

 

“Have a good run,” he says to the group of them, and then he looks to Miller, signaling that it’s time to get on their way. As they peel out and head downstream to the next set of rapids, Bellamy can’t help but guess that this is not the last he’s heard of this Clarke person.

 

“What a jackass,” Clarke mutters as she watches the two guys disappear over the horizon line, and then she looks back to her crew where they’re getting back into their boats. “You guys ready?”

 

“Hell yeah!” Raven shouts. “Let’s get a move on. The Green is ours, bitches!”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Bellamy sees Clarke, she’s shotgunning a beer in the parking lot at the takeout of the Gauley River in West Virginia, wearing nothing but a bright pink bikini top and a pair of neoprene shorts. It’s Gauley Festival weekend—known colloquially as “Gauleyfest”—and there are several hundred people who have come for the whitewater and for the party sponsored by gear companies and paddling organizations, so there’s a festive spirit in the air. He and Miller have just gotten to the parking lot after hiking their boats up the trail from the river when he spots her. Her wavy blonde hair has dried and falls loosely down her back as she tilts her head, her eyes closed, until the beer is empty and she flings the dripping can onto the grass, wiping her mouth with her wrist.

 

She looks like the fantasy of every person in the parking lot who likes both girls and kayaking. He knows her full name now—Clarke Griffin—because in the year and a half since he watched her run Gorilla for the first time, she’s become a fairly well-known figure in the whitewater world as an up-and-comer. It’s a small world, admittedly, but there are websites and videos that glorify the feats of the kayaking elite, and Clarke Griffin is well on her way to becoming one of those elite. There are so few women who can paddle at her level, and she’s a natural fit for the sponsorships and videos, should she choose to go in that direction.

 

Bellamy’s no slouch either. He’s been in his share of videos, having run with the crew in the southeast for long enough that he was bound to end up in a few of the movies his friends have shot over the years. He learned to paddle at a summer camp near Arkville that he went to on scholarship as a kid, that happened to have a great kayaking program due its location amongst some of the best rivers in the southeast. A few of his camp counselors were local paddlers who took Bellamy under their wing and kept kayaking with him after he was too old for summer camp, leading him down legit class IV-V runs before his sixteenth birthday. He hasn’t stopped paddling since, and his fellow paddlers have become his family. He and his sister Octavia have been lucky, he knows, to have a community like this.

 

He’s one of the more hardcore paddlers in Arkville, willing to paddle the most difficult rivers under the most difficult circumstances. When he was in his late teens he started getting invited on expeditions to places like California, British Columbia, Ecuador, and Chile, places where you drove on sketchy roads for hours and then hiked your boat for even more hours before committing to running the unknown, and learned from guys like Marcus Kane and Kyle Wick, both seasoned expedition paddlers, how to handle the challenges. He’d seen some of the most beautiful places on the planet and experienced some of the most insane adrenaline rushes possible thanks to kayaking.

 

He’d taken a break from traveling after their mother died and he couldn’t leave Octavia, but gradually he’s getting back into it. It helps that he gets deals on his boats and gear, because he knows the guys who design them, and the local companies are committed to supporting local paddlers. That’s how Arkville works. There’s not really actual money in kayaking, but if you’re good at it and you know the right people, there are some benefits. It’s pretty much impossible to be a professional kayaker and still put food on the table, so even the people who paddle at the highest level have to have day jobs. They do it for the love of the water. It’s a bond they all share.

 

So he knows about Clarke Griffin, because he’d witnessed her styling Gorilla—which is not something that fades from memory—and because it’s a small scene, and everyone talks about everyone else. Everyone shares the same links on Facebook. Every time he sees something about her, he’s reminded of that day when he underestimated her and she proved him completely wrong. He feels like a jackass, but he hasn’t been able to apologize to her because he hasn’t seen her again, until now.

 

Bellamy is exhausted from the hike and finds the idea of a beer to be very tempting right now. He and Miller have some stashed in a cooler in his truck, but the atmosphere at the takeout is communal and everyone tends to share. He sees that Finn Collins—a hotshot freestyle kayaker or “playboater” from Arkville who’s part of Bellamy’s friend circle—is part of the group surrounding Clarke, and decides that he wants to stop by for a chat.

 

The way Clarke fills out a bikini top has nothing to do with this decision, he’s sure.

 

Clarke licks the last of the beer from her lips and looks over at the figure that’s just stopped in front of their group, jolting slightly in recognition of the guy who’d given her attitude before she ran Gorilla last year. That guy. The jackass. _Bellamy Blake_ , she thinks, because she knows his name now. After that day on the Green, she’d been continually bothered by the familiarity of his face, and it nagged at her until she finally placed it one day when she was back at her parents’ house and came across a box of old DVDs. She saw the cover of _Cali Steep Creeks II_ and it suddenly clicked. That guy from the Green! The grumpy one with the eyes! She recognized him from a video her dad had bought for her when she was fifteen, thus proving that he was even more of a local Arkville dudebro than she’d initially realized. She’d even stuck the old DVD into her computer to confirm it and sure enough there he was, smirking at the camera before peeling out of an eddy and launching off of some California class V, his name captioned at the bottom of the frame.

 

And now he’s here, standing in front of them, sweaty from his hike up the near mile-long trail from the take-out of the river to the parking lot. He’s stripped down to his board shorts, his kayak still hefted onto his shoulder and his muscles are flexing, causing the sun to gleam off his golden skin in a way that’s just unfair. Clarke knows a lot of ripped dudes thanks to kayaking, but Bellamy Blake is especially pleasing to the eye. As a teenager, she’d thought he was cute in the videos. In real life, he’s straight up gorgeous.

 

“Hey,” he says, setting his boat down so the stern rests on the ground. “Good run?”

 

Finn looks over at him and smiles affably. “Oh hey, Blake, how’s it going? I didn’t know you were coming up for Gauleyfest this year.”

 

Bellamy shrugs. “Last minute decision. The Gauley’s always fun.”

 

Clarke watches as Finn tosses some beers at Bellamy and Miller. She hadn’t realized Finn knew Bellamy, but then again they are from Arkville, where everyone knows each other. She looks between Bellamy and Finn, appreciating the amount of male muscle currently on display. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that one of the major perks of being a capable female in a male-dominated sport was the easy access to legions of good-looking guys—even if the goods were odd, as they say—and these are two prime examples. Maybe it’s shallow, but she doesn’t really care. She’s twenty-one years old and she’s living her dream. She might as well enjoy herself.

 

Finn Collins has been hitting on her for a while now, ever since they met at a party in Arkville last year when Clarke and her friends were down there for spring break. He’d flirted with her and she’d flirted back shamelessly, and they’d continued flirting over social media and every time they’d seen each other since. Finn is hot, and he’s a competitive playboater, which means he specializes in doing tricks in smaller boats on standing waves, kind of like skateboarders and freestyle skiers, but on the water. It’s different from the kind of kayaking Clarke likes best, which is river-running, but she enjoys playboating, too. It’s also one of the more lucrative kinds of kayaking, if you’re good enough to win competition prize money, which Finn is.

 

The party tonight is going to get pretty wild, and Clarke is fairly certain that Finn is hers for the taking if she wants him. Which she thinks she might. She thinks she might really like him, actually, more than just one night stand material. She enjoys sex and has had her share of fun since she lost her virginity at sixteen, but there’s something different about Finn, something exciting, something real that she hasn’t felt before. Which is why she is momentarily confused by the deep pull of attraction she feels when she looks at Bellamy Blake.

 

She’d been so satisfied when she’d proved him wrong on the Green that day, and even though she’d thought him to be a total jackass at the time, the way he’d looked at her with respect after she ran Gorilla had stuck in her mind. She’d liked the way she felt, when he’d looked at her like that. She wants, suddenly, to feel that again.

 

And just because she finds him attractive doesn’t mean she wants to sleep with him, she reminds herself as he meets her gaze. No, this is the kind of man she needs to assert her dominance around, regardless of who’s fucking whom. Clarke has always gotten along well with men, and she has a lot of good guy friends. She knows how to deal with tough guys who think they know everything. And she chalks up the attraction she feels to her being a red-blooded woman with a pulse and him being a good looking guy with a ripped torso, deciding that Bellamy Blake is someone she wants to get to know better as a friend. After she gives him some shit, because he was a jackass.

 

Clarke cocks her hip to the side and folds her arms across her chest—which she’s already caught him staring at once; _so predictable_ —and narrows her eyes at him as he cracks open his beer and takes a swig.

 

“I remember you,” she says. “You were on the Green the day I ran Gorilla for the first time.”

 

Bellamy nods. “That’s right.”

 

“You were a _dick_ ,” she says, curling her lip in a challenging smile.

 

“Oooooooooh,” Raven teases, knowing exactly what’s going down because she’d been there that day on the Green. “You tell him, Clarke.”

 

Finn just raises an eyebrow and looks amused.

 

Bellamy straightens and puffs his chest out slightly, to exert his authority. “I was just making sure you weren’t another idiot out-of-towner getting in over her head. Can’t blame me for trying to keep the peace on the local run.”

 

It’s a valid point, she’ll give him that. Paddlers respect each other’s turf. She would have done the same thing, had their roles been reversed. But still. There’s such a thing as _being nice._

 

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t a dick while you were doing it,” she replies, her gaze locked onto his brown eyes. And are those _freckles_? Those are freckles.

 

Bellamy doesn’t have a great comeback for this, but a proud smile spreads across his face anyway. “Well guess what,” he says, taking a step forward. “I’m a dick sometimes.”

 

Finn just laughs. “Ain’t that the truth.”

 

“Shut up, Collins,” Bellamy grumbles.

 

“As long as we’re agreed on that point,” Clarke says, and then she sticks out her hand, because if nobody is going to introduce them she’s just going to have to make it happen herself. “I’m Clarke Griffin.”

 

“Bellamy Blake,” he replies, taking her hand and shaking it. They each grip the other’s hand like a vise, and she knows it’s partly that they’re both trying to make a point and partly that they’re both strong as hell. 

 

“You guys live in Arkville?” she asks as she lets go.

 

He and Miller both nod. “Yeah, just like a bunch of other idiots here, including Collins.”

 

“Hey,” Finn protests good-naturedly.

 

“Seems like a cool place,” she replies, and smiles slyly. “Even if it’s filled with idiots.”

 

“What made you guys decide to drive up?” Finn asks.

 

The Gauley is several hours north of Arkville, in West Virginia, so it’s a full weekend commitment to come up for the festival. Bellamy looks at Miller, who ducks his head to hide a blush.

 

“Miller’s chasing some tail.”

 

“Whatever man,” Miller says. “We drove up because Octavia kicked his ass out for the weekend.”

 

“Octavia _is_ a force to be reckoned with,” Finn says, laughing.

 

“Octavia’s a pain in my ass,” Bellamy replies. “She thinks I’m working too hard and need to go do ‘dumb guy stuff’ all weekend, as she put it.”

 

“And there’s plenty of dumb guy stuff to get into at Gauleyfest,” Miller says, a twinkle in his eye. “Remember last time, when you and Wick had the fire jumping contest?”

 

Bellamy lets out a laugh. “It took a month for my eyelashes to grow back after that. I think I’ll steer clear of fire-jumping this time around.”

 

“Tell that to Monroe once she gets the pallet fire going later on tonight,” Miller says.

 

The festival is held at a large fairground about twenty minutes from the river, and camping is ten bucks a person. The Saturday night of the festival always turns into a huge party. The Arkville crew traditionally gathers at the same spot towards the back of the fairground and always parties into the wee hours of the morning. Monroe has a bit of reputation for building the biggest fires possible without getting shut down by the local fire department, and tonight will be no exception.

 

“Speaking of,” Finn says, looking at Clarke, “we should probably get going fairly soon if we want to get the tents set up and dinner on the grill.”

 

Clarke wants to keep hanging out and drinking beer with Bellamy and Miller, but this is her first Gauleyfest, and she’s relying on Finn to show her the ropes, so if he says it’s time to go, she should probably listen.

 

She looks at Raven. “What do you think?”

 

Raven shrugs. “Camp and dinner sound good to me. The sooner we do that, the sooner the party starts, right?”

 

“Not a bad idea,” Bellamy says, tipping back his beer before he picks up his kayak. He looks over at Miller, who is doing the same thing, and then back at the others, making eye contact with Clarke for a second before nodding at Finn. “We’ll see you guys at the usual spot?”

 

“You know it,” Finn says, and then turns to start loading boats onto the vehicle.

 

Clarke’s gaze lingers on their retreating figures for a moment and she smiles to herself as she confirms that Bellamy has freckles across his back, too, the muscles of which are currently displaying this feature very nicely as he repositions his boat on his shoulder.

 

 _Bless this sport,_ she thinks to herself, and then she goes to help her friends.

 

**

 

If there’s anything paddlers love almost as much as whitewater, it’s partying. Beers after the river—hell, beers _on_ the river, if it’s a chill run—and then at night things can get really crazy, if the mood is right. Gauleyfest is among the craziest of the crazy parties one can attend. Hundreds of people milling around a county fair site after running the river all day, browsing booths from different vendors, meeting up with old friends and making new ones, dancing to live music, maybe a bit of illicit drug use (a lot of paddlers are hippies at heart, after all), and drinking. _Lots_ of drinking.

 

Bellamy has fun. He's been a part of the scene since he was a teenager, so he knows a lot of people at Gauleyfest, many of whom he hasn't seen in a while. He wanders around with Miller for a while and they check out the booths and the food trucks, drinking beers with old friends. He needs this, he realizes. Octavia was right. He's been working too hard lately, so he can pay for her college tuition and try to put some money away every month to save up for the business he wants to start. It's nice to forget all of that for a weekend and just hang out and relax.

 

After walking around for a while, Miller finally runs into Monty, the guy he’s been crushing on ever since they met back in the summer when Monty and his friends were rafting on the Ocoee River in Tennessee and Miller rescued Monty after he accidentally fell out of his raft. Monty lives in Knoxville, which is less than two hours from Arkville, and he and Miller have kept in touch. Bellamy knows the minute he meets Monty that both men are equally interested in one another, and that his services as wingman won’t be needed for long. He raises his beer in cheers as he takes his leave.

 

He makes his way back to the core Arkville party crew around midnight, which is nice because these are the friends he knows from home—his Arkville family—and there's a level of comfort with them that Bellamy appreciates. Monroe has indeed built one of her legendary fires, and someone has a stereo blasting the Notorious B.I.G. At least thirty people are gathered around or near the fire, talking and shouting and drinking and laughing. He waves to Anya Jones, one of the matriarchs of the Arkville scene, who is currently doing shots with Monroe, and they both wave back. His fire-jumping and expedition kayaking buddy Wick is there, engaged in what appears to be a heated debate with Clarke’s brunette friend, Raven. Clarke herself is standing at the edge of a small crowd around some kind of push-up contest. He heads over to see what’s going on.  

 

Clarke spots Bellamy as he approaches the fire and the light shines across his features, and she feels a pleasant tingle in her stomach. She’d been a little baffled earlier by her reaction to him, but during the drive from the take-out to the campground she’d figured it out: she’s intrigued by him because she knows from that old video her dad got her, and from getting to know the Arkville crew, that he’s run some of the most difficult expedition-style rivers in the country and abroad. He’s accomplished feats that few other people have, things that Clarke herself dreams of accomplishing someday. And she wants to know what makes someone like that tick.

 

Everyone is pretty drunk, herself included, and she can see by the slight trip in his step as he approaches the fire that Bellamy must be too. This emboldens her. Clarke picks up an open bottle of Jack Daniels and walks toward him.

  
"Hey Bellamy," she says, and he looks over at her. "Want some whiskey?"  


He smiles as he reaches out and takes the bottle from her.

 

"Thanks," he says, and pulls it up for a drink.

 

Bellamy appreciates how delicious it tastes on his tongue. He sees that she’s changed clothes, which is fortunate, because she’s much less distracting to look at when she’s in more than a bikini top. She’s now wearing a simple, stretchy cotton dress with a thin sweater pulled over it. It strikes him as something his sister might wear. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders and Bellamy thinks she makes a pleasant sight in firelight, with the moon shining off her fair head. She’s got a gleam in her eye that he can’t interpret because he doesn’t really know her, but he knows enough about women in general to understand that she’s got trouble written all over her.

 

She’s a pistol, and he likes that.

 

He feels a slight challenge as their eyes meet, but he tempers the spark in his belly with the memory of the multiple times someone had gossiped to him this evening about how Finn Collins had already staked his claim on the new chick. Hot young things new to the scene tended to be Finn’s specialty. (“It was only a matter of time before that piece got snatched up,” Murphy had said while lighting a joint behind the funnel-cake stand. “But does it really have to be Collins _again_?”)

 

Bellamy’s not looking for a drunken festival hook-up anyway, as much as both his sister and Miller think it would be good for him. He enjoys the company of women. If he’s been dating a bit less lately, it’s because he has other priorities. A crazy party is generally a good place to pick up women, but tonight he’s not really feeling the vibes of any of the available options. He doesn’t let himself think about how his attitude might be different if Clarke Griffin were one of those options.

 

He takes a few steps back from the fire and sits back against the open tailgate of Monroe's pickup truck. Clarke follows and perches on the tailgate next to him, her bare legs dangling, and he takes a moment to appreciate the scene. It was a great day on the river, it’s a beautiful late-summer night, the company is interesting, and Bellamy feels alive.

 

He hands Clarke a beer from the 30-rack in the back of the truck, grabs one for himself, and sets down the Jack Daniels bottle. "Look, I feel like I should apologize for being a asshole that day on the Green. You stomped Gorilla. I was just being territorial.”

 

Clarke smiles as they crack their beers. “It’s okay. I get it. And I’m used to being underestimated. It kind of comes with the territory of being young and female.”

 

Bellamy nods. “I have a little sister. I know how girls get treated. Trust me, my sister was the first one to tell me what a jerk I was that day.”

 

Clarke laughs. She’s happy that Bellamy seems game for conversation. It’s the first time they’ve interacted one-on-one. “I like her already,” she says.

 

“Enjoying your first Gauleyfest?" he continues.

  
"It's quite the time. Worth the drive down from school, for sure. Raven and I just decided to go for it, make a long weekend of it. Although getting back in time for class on Monday is going to be a bitch,” she says. “How about you? Having fun?"  


He shrugs and sips his beer. "It's good to catch up with everyone. I haven't been in a few years. It gets crazier every time I come, I swear."  


Clarke looks around at the scene in front of them—Raven and Wick are now arm-wrestling, and the beat from the stereo has inspired an impromptu dance party in the headlights of someone’s Subaru—and laughs again. "Yeah, it's pretty insane. I couldn't believe how many people were out on the water today."

 

"The Gauley River's a classic,” he says, and she likes the rumble of his voice, the way it speaks volumes of something behind his words. “Was this your first time running it?"

  
"Yeah," she says, and she feels a rush of delight over the great time she had on the river today, with a rag-tag crew of her and Raven mixed with Finn and a few other Arkville-ians. The camaraderie on the river is a big part of what she loves about kayaking, something she’s loved since she was a girl.

 

"I grew up in California,” she continues, “paddling things out there. But my dad grew up in Atlanta and learned to paddle in the southeast, so I'm finally getting to run all the rivers he’s been telling me about my whole life."

 

Bellamy nods appreciatively. "So you’ve got whitewater in your blood.”

 

She swallows her beer with a shiver at the thought of the flow of the rapids running through her veins. “I guess I do.”

 

“What was your favorite rapid today?" he asks

 

She bites her lip thoughtfully, replaying the day in her head. "Hmm. Well, Pillow was definitely the craziest, with the crowds of people watching,” she says, referring to a rapid in the middle of the run that makes for great spectating due the size of the rapid and the number of people ending up outside of their boats and rafts at the bottom. She’d liked the energy, but that wasn’t the rapid that thrilled her the most.

 

“I think Lost Paddle was probably the most interesting one, from a technical whitewater perspective," she continues

  
Bellamy looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then nods. "I agree. Iron Ring's a good one too."

 

She feels something, then, that’s indefinable to her, beyond the fact that it feels really good that Bellamy Blake, whom she respects as a kayaker, agrees with her about something like this. It emboldens her further. She sips her beer and looks at him quietly for a moment, daring herself to ask the question that’s burning inside her.

 

"So what's your deal, Bellamy Blake?" she asks finally, letting curiosity win.

 

He sits up slightly, surprised. "My deal?" he asks.

 

"Yeah," she says. "I mean, I know you're part of the Arkville crew, and I know you run the shit,” she says, using the term kayakers employ when describing the really hard stuff. “But... who are you, beyond that?"

 

Bellamy is not, by nature, someone who likes talking about himself, so Clarke asking him this question catches him off guard. But he thinks that Clarke is really just curious, and her friendliness is benign. He knows that she’s a badass kayaker, too, capable of kayaking the same things as him, and he doesn’t meet many people like that, let alone women. If he's honest with himself, he's curious about her, too, and he finds himself talking.

 

"Well, I live in Arkville—born and raised—and when I'm not running the shit, as you say, I work construction. Framing houses, drywall, laying tile, whatever needs done, really."

 

Clarke chuckles and shakes her head. "What is it with all you kayaker dudes working construction? Is it like a requirement? I swear, you all do it."

 

Bellamy laughs with her, because she's not wrong. He and Miller work together frequently on a crew with several other kayakers, and even Finn’s been known to pick up a hammer now and again when he’s not winning prize-money or getting endorsement checks.

 

"I'm sure you've figured out by now that kayaking full time isn't feasible for most people, bills have to get paid somehow,” he says. “Construction's a good job, when you're working with guys you know. And it's flexible. There's time between jobs to go on trips out west or in South America, if you want, and when your crew boss is cool with it you can adjust your hours to get in a run on the Green before or after work. I'm actually hoping to get my contractor's license in the next few years, start my own business, and then I'll be the boss. Green runs for everyone."

 

She looks at him like she's impressed, and he's shocked that he told her that. He hasn't told anyone that, besides Miller and his sister. Now might not be a bad time to back off a little with the confessions.

 

"What about you, Clarke Griffin? What's your 'deal'?" he asks, jokingly adopting her tone. If he knocks his shoulder against hers it's because he's drunk, he swears.

 

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and takes another sip of her beer and it hits him again how pretty she is. "Well, I grew up in northern California, like I was saying, and learned to kayak out there with my dad. I came out east for college, and I'm about to graduate this coming spring." She crosses her fingers on both hands and holds them up. "And I'm hoping to get into medical school at either University of Georgia or University of Tennessee, but we'll see."

 

Now it's his turn to be impressed. "You want to be a doctor?"

 

Clarke nods, lowering her hands, and she realizes she hasn’t talked about med school all day, since she’s been having such a good time on the river and with her friends. She tends to downplay it when she’s in kayaking mode, but she finds herself wanting to explain this part of herself to Bellamy.

 

"Yeah,” she says. “It's been a dream of mine since I was small. My parents are both doctors, and I just really respect what they do, and want to do it to."

 

He still looks surprised, which is the typical reaction she gets from people. She’s not like the other pre-med students at her school, because she spends so much of her time kayaking (and partying, which goes hand in hand with kayaking), but what a lot of people don’t know is that sometimes, when she’s really busy, every free second in the car when they’re driving to and from the river is spent studying, and she doesn’t always drink a ton when she’s partying, if she knows she has to get up early the next day and work.

 

And she’s not like other kayakers, either. A lot of her friends seem surprised that she isn’t going to just start kayaking professionally when she finishes school, which they assume she can do easily. She’s not so sure about that. She knows she’s good, that she has the instincts, and that she could dedicate herself to kayaking and try to make a go of doing it as a pro. But she loves medicine as much as she loves kayaking, and she knows what she needs to do to achieve her dreams in that area. And she can’t do that _and_ be a whitewater superstar. Finn, as great as he is, seems puzzled by her plans—he wants her to go on the road with him and travel to competitions around the world. So it’s always interesting to her, the way people react when they hear what she wants to do with her life.

 

"Well, Athens and Knoxville are both great cities, close to lots of rivers,” Bellamy says. “You'd be choosing wisely either way.”

 

She smiles, relieved that he’s not questioning her. That he’s talking about it as a feasible situation, which surprisingly few people do. "I'd be close to Arkville, too. Being able to run the Green on the weekends is, like, my dream."

  
He nods in understanding. "It's a great river to have in your backyard. Especially if you want to train to run the harder stuff.”

 

She nods eagerly. “That’s what I want to do. I want to run the real shit. The multi-day epic stuff.”

 

Bellamy looks at her in surprise. “You do?”

 

She nods. “Yeah.”

 

“Too bad there’s not a med school in Arkville,” he says. “Then you could run the Green every day. Because that’s really the best place to train for that kind of stuff. There’s a lot of good stuff all over the southeast, though. Sounds like we've sold you on it, anyway."

 

She raises her beer. "It's true. I love it here. The people are friendly, the rivers are awesome. Some people think I'm crazy for not wanting to take time off and travel, or for not going back to California, but I don't know. The southeast has Waffle House!"

 

"Cheers to Waffle House,” Bellamy says, raising his beer to meet hers. “That’s cool you’re from California. California is amazing. I've done a few trips in the Sierras.

 

She smiles down at her beer, because now it’s time for her to confess that she recognizes him from something. "Yeah, I've seen _Cali Steep Creeks II_."

 

He laughs loudly and shakes his head. "That old video that Marcus and those guys made a few years back? Geez, that's embarrassing.

 

"It's a classic!" she replies

 

"Yeah, if you like footage of idiots like me and Miller running waterfalls set to bad punk music."

 

The music had been pretty bad. Kayaking videos were basically an hour or so of footage of people running rapids or doing playboating tricks, set to whatever music the video-makers could afford to pay royalties for, and _Cali Steep Creeks II_ had been no exception. But Clarke loved the footage of them running rivers throughout the mountains of her home state, most of which were within a few hours of the town where she grew up. She taps her beer against his. "Well, when I was young and impressionable, that video was one of my favorites."

 

He laughs. "Aren't you still young and impressionable?"

 

"I'll be 22 in a few months,” she says. “I'm not as young as you think I am. How old are you?"

 

"Twenty-six," he replies.

 

"See, you’re not that much older. And seriously, that video is the shit. I dream of running the Middle Fork of the Kings River because of it. And the carnage section at the end, where you swam out of your boat after getting worked in the hole below that drop on the Upper Cherry—“

 

"Brutal, don't remind me," he says with a grimace. But then he smiles. "That was my first ever trip to California. It was incredible. I still try to do a trip with the boys in the summer if I can. Seriously, California is one of the most heavenly places on earth. But at the end of the day, I'll always live in the southeast. You can kayak year round, the levels are consistent... And as you say, the people are friendly."

 

If she knocks her shoulder against his, it's because she's drunk, she swears.

 

They’re discussing the details of Cherry Bomb Falls, one of the rapids in _Cali Steep Creeks II_ , when Bellamy spots Finn heading towards them and figures it's time to round up his conversation with Clarke before Collins gets too territorial.

 

Bellamy tilts back his beer to drain it. “I should probably hit the hay soon. Miller and I are going to try and get in an early run in the morning before we head back to Arkville. I don’t want to feel too miserable on the water.”

 

Disappointment flashes so quickly across Clarke’s features that he’s sure he imagined it, and then she spots Finn coming toward them and a smile stretches across her face, making her look incredibly young all of a sudden. She’s a puzzling mixture of freshness and old soul that he’s never encountered in a person before. He can only hope that if she does go down this road with Collins, that Collins treats her well. 

 

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” Finn says as he walks up and slides his arm around Clarke’s waist, all the while maintaining eye contact with Bellamy.

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes internally at Finn, who clearly feels the need to reassert his claim on Clarke for the millionth time that day. _We get it, dude_ , Bellamy wants to say, but he doesn’t want to embarrass Clarke. So he just smiles a trifle smugly, allowing himself to be secretly pleased that Finn sees him as enough of a threat to warrant the reassertion

 

“I was just about to head for bed,” Bellamy says, tossing his beer can into the back of the truck as he stands up. He turns to Clarke. “It was nice talking you. Good luck with the med school stuff, I hope things work out the way you want them to. And if they do, then I’ll probably see you on the river again sometime soon.”

 

Clarke slides off the tailgate and out of Finn’s grasp as she reaches for Bellamy and surprises him with a hug. It’s quick, and innocent, and she comes away smiling like she feels it too, these early stirrings of friendship.

 

“Thanks,” she says after she lets go. “It was nice talking to you, too. Good luck with getting your contractor’s license.”

 

And then she’s fading back to the fire with Finn, and Bellamy watches them go for a moment before turning to head for his truck, unable to shake the feeling that his world has shifted somehow, now that Clarke Griffin is a part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me as I learn to switch between pov's within the same scene. I'm using this fic to workshop several things that are outside of my comfort zone, so thanks for being a supportive audience for that kind of thing. Also, if you live anywhere near West Virginia and you have the time/$ to go whitewater rafting on the Upper Gauley, you should do it. Especially on Gauleyfest weekend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, this one got long. In case you haven't already figured out that this story might be sliiightly epic in time-scope, we're jumping forward a bit. Bear with me! And because I haven't said it already: all mistakes are mine and I don't own any of these fictional characters that have taken my brain hostage.
> 
> This is the song Octavia uses to "get fired up!": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSlmgr15Yh0

Clarke ends up going to med school in Knoxville. It’s a dream come true for her after college graduation, moving to the southeast and starting her training as a doctor. Med school is every bit as intense as she expects it to be, and she has a ton of work to do, but she stays on top of things enough that she can still get out and paddle.

 

She and Bellamy become friends. Not close friends, because they don’t live in the same town, but friends within the larger kayaking world to which they both belong. They see each other on a fairly regular basis because Clarke comes over to run the Green on as many weekends as she can get away from her work, just like she claimed she would, and Bellamy is always out there because it’s his local run. She usually meets up with Anya, who became one of her good friends after they met a Gauleyfest—female paddlers tend to bond with one another—or Finn, who she starts dating seriously after she moves to Knoxville. It’s less than a two-hour drive, so she comes to Arkville a lot to visit Finn and go kayaking, gradually becoming a part of the extended Arkville network.

 

Clarke becomes better friends with Bellamy’s sister, Octavia, than she does with Bellamy. They meet on a girls’ trip that Anya puts together on the French Broad River, and Octavia is immediately in awe of Clarke’s skills. While she’d learned how to roll a kayak when she was younger and begged Bellamy to teach her in a pool, Octavia started kayaking in earnest after high school, and by the time she meets Clarke she is working hard to become a better paddler. Bellamy is happy to see his sister embraced by Clarke and Anya and the other badass chicks who tend to stick together a lot of the time, even though some of them can easily keep up with the boys. The hard part, for Bellamy, comes when Octavia gets good enough to start running more difficult—and more dangerous—things.

 

The weekend Octavia runs the Green for the first time is, coincidentally, the weekend that Clarke and Finn break up. The two events are not connected, beyond the fact that Clarke is involved in both.

 

Bellamy pulls into his driveway late on a Friday night and finds an extra car parked in front of the house he and Octavia live in about fifteen minutes outside of Arkville. He’s on his way home from a date with a girl named Jen, who he’s been seeing casually for a few weeks now (Octavia claims this makes her his “girlfriend,” which he supposes she probably is, even though they haven’t had that particular talk yet). He normally would have stayed the night at her place, but he wants to be there in the morning when Octavia wakes up so he can cook her favourite breakfast before they head for the river.

 

Octavia’s car is in the driveway too, and after getting closer he realizes the other car is Clarke’s, because he recognizes her Tennessee plates and the boat strapped on roof racks. Clarke is planning to go with him and Octavia tomorrow as part of Octavia’s hand-selected “first Green Run crew,” which also includes Miller and Anya. Octavia texted him a while ago that she was going to bed early so she’d be rested up for the river, so he’s not sure why Clarke is here, given that she usually stays at Finn’s place when she’s in town, unless they’re having some kind of girl power sleepover or something.

 

He gets his answer when he gets out of his truck and finds Clarke sitting on his porch swing, wrapped up in a blanket, with bottle of wine and a cigarette.

 

He’s known Clarke for years now and he’s never seen her smoke before. That’s his first clue that something’s off.

 

His second clue is that she’s been crying, which he doesn’t realize until he gets close enough that he can see her face clearly in the soft light coming from the living room window. Her eyes are rimmed with red, and he’s alarmed. He’s never seen Clarke upset before.

 

“Clarke?” he asks as he steps onto the porch. “Is everything okay?”

 

Clarke lets out a humourless laugh and takes a drag on her cigarette. “Everything’s fine, Bellamy,” she says, although her tone indicates the opposite. “Octavia’s asleep. She wanted to rest up before the big day tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, she texted me,” Bellamy says as he settles back against the porch railing to face Clarke. “But why are you…” he trails off, not sure how to broach it.

 

“Why am I smoking cigarettes on your porch at eleven PM on a Friday?” Clarke finishes for him.

 

He shrugs. “It’s not that you’re not welcome. I’m just surprised to see you here.”

 

“Octavia offered me the couch,” she says. “It’s been kind of a crazy night.”

 

“Crazy how?” he asks.

 

Clarke looks at Bellamy and she decides now’s as good as time as any to just dump it all out there. “Finn and I broke up at a party in front of an audience. Your sister brought me home to get me away from the mess.”

 

The look on Bellamy’s face is a mixture of surprise and concern. She knows this will be a major piece of gossip amongst their social group—it’s probably already getting around, in fact, given that the break-up happened at a party and was witnessed by at least fifteen people. Thank goodness Octavia had been there to give Clarke an out and a place to go.

 

“Damn,” Bellamy says.

 

“Yeah,” Clarke says and laughs humourlessly again. “Over three years of my life down the drain.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

 

Clarke sighs. “Me too.” She reaches for the bottle of wine and takes a slug before offering it to him half-heartedly. “You want some?”

 

“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “But I might grab a beer. Give me a second?”

 

He heads inside the house and Clarke watches him go, surprised. She half expected him to make his excuses and get the hell inside, away from the drama, because really, they don’t know each other that well, there’s no reason he would want to stay and hear about her breakup. But he sounded like he intended to come back.

 

She looks around the porch, out into the early spring night, and feels glad that she somehow managed to land at the Blakes on a night like tonight. She’s been to their house a few times before, mostly to pick up and drop off Octavia, but she hasn’t spent real time here. It’s a peaceful place, a modest two-bedroom in a quiet neighbourhood that Bellamy bought as a fixer-upper in his early 20s, “when he was trying to raise my rebellious teenage ass,” as Octavia put it. The yard is large, which she likes, and she feels the sudden urge to go out for a walk in the grass, to feel the earth beneath her feet, to remember what she is anchored to.

 

Bellamy returns before she can act on that urge, but she makes a mental note on what she has already titled her “Post-breakup To-do List:”

 

_-Remember where the hell you belong in the world. (Use nature props if necessary)._

 

Bellamy joins her on the porch swing and she puts out her cigarette. She doesn’t think he smokes, and she only smokes when she’s having an extremely shitty time, so she should probably stop if she doesn’t want to bother him and feel extra gross in the morning.

 

“So,” he says. “What happened?”

 

Clarke takes a breath, trying to figure out where to start. Bellamy’s expression is that of a man who knows how to listen to a woman in distress, and she attributes his preparedness for this kind of thing to Octavia training him well. “Things have been kind of… weird for a while, I guess. We needed to talk about things, a lot of things. But before we could, I guess Finn decided he wanted to start sleeping with someone else.”

 

Bellamy lets out a low whistle. “That’s fucked.”

 

“He’s an ass. He’s an ass, and I’ve seen this coming for miles—you know Finn, he can charm the pants off anyone—so maybe it’s my fault? We probably wouldn’t have broken up if she hadn’t shown up at the party tonight and started a scene, that’s how stupidly complacent I was being.” Clarke says.

 

“Hey,” Bellamy says with urgency. “Don’t blame yourself. If he was cheating on you, that is _all_ on him.”

 

 _Finn Collins is the biggest fucking moron on this entire planet,_ Bellamy thinks to himself, and he’s filled with anger on Clarke’s behalf. Seriously. Clarke is basically the perfect woman. She’s smart as hell, she’s _hot_ as hell, she runs class V, she’s kind, she’s funny, she’s nearly a doctor… shit, the list goes on. How anyone could cheat on a woman like that is beyond him. He thinks back to the first night they got to know each other, him and Clarke, years ago at Gauleyfest, and realizes that was right around the time Clarke and Finn first got together. He wishes he could have warned her in some way, but he knows that’s ridiculous.

 

“The rational side of me knows it’s not my fault,” Clarke says, taking another sip of wine from the bottle. Another remarkable thing about Clarke: her insanely high tolerance for alcohol. She sets the bottle down on the porch deck. “The problem with relationships is that they don’t follow rational thought.”

 

Bellamy watches her, curious where she’s going with this.

 

“Relationships are like this weird state of being,” she continues, “where you’re partly driven by your body—by your hormones and whatnot, and yes, ‘whatnot’ is a medical term—but also by this weird, squishy, ambiguous thing we think of as the heart. That’s a thing people do, we think of our emotions as coming from our heart. Which is ridiculous when you think about it, because the heart is just a goddamn muscle! But anyway. The hormones and the heart, they aren’t subject to rules of rationality. They’re just these, these _things_ that make you do things like stay with a guy for over three fucking years even though you know you’re wrong for each other.”

 

Bellamy opens his mouth to speak but finds that he has no words, so he sips his beer instead and watches Clarke as she stares out at the night.

 

“It’s just so fucking stupid!” Clarke says, and she laughs that humourless laugh again. “It’s so fucking stupid. I should have done this a year ago when I first suspected.”

 

Bellamy’s eyebrows shoot up. “He was cheating on you for a _year_?”

 

Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t know. Around that long, I think. I didn’t really want to hear all the details in front of everyone tonight. Things haven’t been right between us for a while, but I kept telling myself to just wait until I finished med school, and then everything would get better. I would be finished with that crazy stage of my life, and things would be magically fixed. But I was just putting off the inevitable.”

 

Clarke stands up suddenly and Bellamy feels the swing move as the weight shifts. She reaches down to tug off her wool socks and suddenly she’s walking off the porch and out into the yard, blanket still wrapped around her body but her feet bare. He stands and follows, because he’s not sure what she’s doing, and she isn’t in the most stable frame of mind right now.

 

Clarke stops in the middle of the yard and ducks down, plunging her fingers into the dewy grass.

 

“What are you doing, Clarke?” he asks in bemused curiousity.

 

“You’ve been through a breakup, right Bellamy?” she asks as she runs blades of grass through her fingers.

 

He nods, thinking of his two most serious relationships. There’d been Roma, his long-term girlfriend from high school, who had crushed his heart when she left him and went away to college. And there’d been Stacy, who he’d dated for a little over a year when he was twenty-five, who’d left him for a forty-year-old divorced guy with money. Neither experience had been pleasant in any regard. “Yeah, I have.”

 

“You know that feeling when it ends? When you feel like you’ve come out of a fucking cloud that you’ve been living inside of for the entire duration of the relationship and suddenly you have to remember who you are again, without that other person?”

 

“I… yeah, I do,” he says quietly. She’s putting things into words that he hasn’t tried to articulate before, which he supposes is good, because she’s processing what she’s going through. But she’s so different from Octavia, whose breakups had all involved a lot of screaming and crying. He’s curious to see where she goes with this train of thought.

 

He watches as she flattens her palms and runs them across the top of the grass in wide arcs. “Whenever I feel lost in life, I go out in nature, and I feel at home again. That’s my place. Thank fucking god we’re going to the Green tomorrow, because I need that river right now more than I need… my breath, practically. But I needed to feel something tonight, too, and this grass—this yard, Bellamy, this yard is like my dream yard—it’s doing the trick. It’s bringing me back down to earth a little bit.”

 

Clarke is all over the place right now, but he doesn’t blame her. And he gets what she’s saying. Nature is where he goes to find himself, too, when he’s unsure of things. He just doesn’t usually do it in his front yard, which he thinks is pretty average. He’s sure that Clarke’s glowing praise has more to do with the wine than with his landscaping skills.

 

She stands up, wiping her dewy palms on the blanket. She looks up at him then and that striking blue gaze is more focused than its been since he got home and found her. She looks at him for a while, and Bellamy finds himself locked in, feeling like he should look away but not wanting to.

 

“Are we friends?” she asks suddenly, a breeze teasing her hair from the blanket.

 

“What? Of course we’re friends,” he replies. They aren’t close friends or anything, but they are friends. They have been ever since that Gauleyfest years ago.

 

“Okay good,” she says. She bites her lip and looks contemplative for a moment. “Will you do something for me, as a friend?”

 

“Whatever you need,” he says.

 

Before he quite realizes what’s happening, Clarke is rising on her toes and reaching her hand up to pull his head down to hers, and then her mouth is on his, warm and soft and completely surprising.

 

He doesn’t fully comprehend what is happening at first, and when he does start to come around, it’s his body that reacts first—Clarke’s speech about the body’s ignorance of rational thought suddenly being very applicable. His mouth softens against hers, and her fingers scratch slightly against the back of his scalp, and the pressure between them builds, lips moving as they strive to fit together, somehow. He’s about to slide his hands into her hair when the sparks shooting through his body finally penetrate the thick layer around his brain and he remembers exactly why this is not an option.

 

 _God. Fucking. Dammit_.

 

 _Jen_.

 

He pulls away suddenly, breathless, and stares down at Clarke, who is staring right back at him like she’s just been electrocuted and he’s glad they’re on the same page about that.

 

And wow. Shit. Not five minutes ago they were talking about cheating and suddenly they’re on the verge of making out in his front yard when one of them is definitely not available for that activity and the other is only very, very recently available and he feels like a piece of garbage.

 

“Clarke, I—I’m seeing someone,” he says, unsure of how else to put it.

 

 _Oh fuck,_ Clarke thinks. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_. “Oh god. Bellamy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I—I’m so sorry,” she says, moving away from him, huddling inside her blanket, feeling like a complete jackass. “I didn’t mean it like that, like—romantically or anything. I just haven’t kissed anyone other than Finn in years and I wanted to just see what it felt like. As friends. That’s why I was asking if we were friends.”

 

Bellamy visibly relaxes, and Clarke is glad she made the clarification, albeit a stumbling one, because otherwise she would definitely die of mortification. She’ll probably still die of mortification because a secret part of her has wondered for years what Bellamy Blake’s mouth might taste like and, well, now she knows, and she made an ass out of herself in the process. Ranting and raving about relationships and Finn and then randomly kissing him in his yard… he must think she’s a lunatic.

 

She turns away from him to walk back to the house and hide under the pull-out couch covers before his look turns to pity, making it two steps before she feels Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder through the blanket. He pulls her around to face him and has a serious look on his face. Goddammit.

 

“Clarke, wait,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

 

She gazes at him, searching for emotions she doesn’t want to find but coming up with only friendly concern.

 

“You do?”

 

He lets out a breath. “I can’t relate to your exact situation, but breakups… what you’re saying about figuring out who you are again, it makes sense. And if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you have much soul-searching to do. You’ve always been your own woman.”

 

Clarke’s face wrinkles slightly. “What does that mean?”

 

“I don’t know, you’re just— _you_ , Clarke. Nobody defines you by who you’re dating. Dated.”

 

Clarke chuckles at his change in tense. “Well, thanks for saying that. I guess I just have to believe it now.”

 

They both start walking toward the porch.

 

“You must think I’m a crazy person,” Clarke says, and really, he must. They’re friends, but they’re not _unload your feelings after a breakup_ friends. Octavia had been great earlier, and she and Clarke had talked through all of these things, except for the kissing part. Ugh, the kissing part. That’s where _she_ knows she’s crazy. She’s never going to live that one down in her mind.

 

“Nah,” Bellamy says. “Breakups are rough. And you forget I have a sister.”

 

Clarke laughs the first genuine laugh she’s let out since he got home. “Oh, I would never forget that. Octavia said you were good at this kind of stuff. I guess she’s right.”

 

“Also, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but what you said about three years of your life going down the drain… the relationship part I’m sure you’re glad to be rid of, but the rest of it, it seems like you’ve accomplished a lot of things. Aren’t you about to graduate from med school?”

 

Her brows rise slightly in surprise. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“Well, that’s amazing. And spending all that time in Arkville over the past few years, you’ve become one of Octavia’s closest friends. And as her brother, I’m really appreciative of that. Having you to look up to has been so good for her. I mean, she basically went to nursing school because of you.”

 

Now Clarke is blushing, unsure of how to handle these kind words when she’s mostly just prepared to be miserable. But Bellamy has a point.

 

“You’re right. The friendships I’ve made, I wouldn’t give those back for anything.”

 

He smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. We wouldn’t let you go, anyway.”

 

They walk back to the porch swing and Clarke picks up the wine bottle and the cigarette butt.

 

“I think it’s probably bed time,” she says. “Big day tomorrow.”

 

“If you’re feeling shitty, Clarke, you don’t have to—“

 

“No, I’m going. Octavia said the same thing, but I’m going. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. It’s Octavia’s first Green run! And besides, I need to be on the water tomorrow. It’ll help me, you know, figure my shit out,” she says, gesturing back toward the grass.

 

He nods. “Totally. Okay, well, great. Honestly, I’m glad you’ll be with us.”

 

Clarke cocks her head and looks at him, suddenly realizing what a big deal this is for Bellamy, too, and not just Octavia. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

 

He laughs nervously. “I’m pretty torn between extremely proud and absolutely terrified.”

 

Clarke softens at Bellamy’s admission as they walk into the house. “She’s going to be amazing,” she says. “I paddled with her last weekend, and I’ve been paddling with her all winter. She’s so ready for this.”

 

Bellamy sighs. “I know, I know she’s ready. But there’s just something about my baby sister running anything harder than class III that makes me lose my mind a little bit.”

 

Clarke smiles indulgently at him, and she wonders if he thinks it’s funny too that they’ve switched places from him comforting her to her comforting him. 

 

“You’ll have me there with you. And you’ll have Miller and Anya, too. That’s about as safe as it gets. The best thing we can do for her is relax and have a good time, make it fun.”

 

Bellamy nods. “I know. It’s just my natural tendency to worry.”

 

She doesn’t blame him. He’s been Octavia’s only family since she was fifteen and he was twenty-two and their mother passed away, something Clarke didn’t learn about him until she became friends with Octavia. He’d had to back off the expedition kayaking in order to raise his teenage sister, but he’d stayed committed to the rivers at home as well as to her, and things had worked out well for the Blakes.

 

“You’re a good older brother. And your sister is an amazing kayaker. And tomorrow is going to be wonderful.”

 

He pauses by the door to the living room as she heads for the pull-out couch, smiling like he almost believes her. “Thanks Clarke. I’m making Octavia’s favourite breakfast in the morning, so if you hear some banging in the kitchen early, that’s what’s going on. You’re welcome to join, obviously.”

 

Clarke smiles back. Her own life may be in upheaval, but she’s landed in a scene of domestic normality that she knows is good for her right now. “Music to my ears.”

 

**

 

Bellamy is up early the next morning. Octavia said she wanted to leave for the river at 9, so breakfast has to be ready before then, and besides, he wasn’t sleeping very heavily anyway. He can’t stop running the rapids in his head, picturing how he’ll take Octavia down them. He’s been running the Green for nearly fifteen years, and has taken plenty of people down it for their first time, but it’s different with Octavia.

 

Clarke is still asleep when he gets downstairs, her blonde hair peeking out above the covers on the pull-out couch. No more Clarke and Finn, he thinks. He’d meant what he said when he told her that she was her own woman. Nobody thought of her as Finn Collins’ girlfriend. Not only was she a better kayaker than Finn, she was also the kind of girl who would punch you in the face if she found out you thought of her as just some guy’s girlfriend. But she’d been with Finn for almost the entire time he’s known her, really, so this is a change.

 

He doesn’t let himself think about the kiss, other than to label it as a thing that happened in a fit of breakup emotions on Clarke’s part. He doesn’t let himself wonder why he didn’t stop it right away. He also doesn’t listen to the part of himself that’s been secretly curious for years about what it would be like to kiss Clarke Griffin telling him that he hasn’t even scratched the surface. That all needs to get locked away, for a million reasons.

 

He thinks of Jen as he pulls out the things he needs to make breakfast. Jen is a nice girl, exactly the kind of woman Octavia has been harping on him for years to date. He met her through Octavia, actually, who went to nursing school with Jen, and introduced them at a bar a few months back. Jen doesn’t kayak, but she’s a yoga instructor, and she loves hiking, and they have a nice time together when they go out, and it seems like something he could get comfortable with.

 

Comfortable being the operative word. Bellamy knows Octavia wants him to settle down, get married, have kids, “the whole heteronormative nine yards,” as she puts it. It’s not that Bellamy doesn’t want that—he’s seen some of his friends settle down happily, it’s not a terrible thing—he just isn’t exactly sure how one gets to a place where one is content with the settling down part. He’d voiced this thought to Octavia, who rolled her eyes and said, “Well, you gotta start somewhere, so why don’t you start by dating a nice girl?” Which is exactly what he’s doing.

 

Clarke pads into the kitchen then, clad in black leggings and a blue t-shirt, taming her wild hair into a braid as she goes. Bellamy thinks suddenly that Clarke is in a different category altogether from “nice girl.” She’s a nice person, of course, but at her core she’s wild and fierce. She’s driven in ways he admires, ways he can relate to. Ways that have nothing to do with “nice.” Maybe it’s because they’re both kayakers, because they both have the same deep love for the water and the calculated risks associated with it, but he knows Clarke is much more like him than like a “nice girl.”

 

She smiles at him as she walks in. She doesn’t look hung over—miracle tolerance—but she does look tired.  

 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “Coffee’s almost ready.”

 

“Thank god,” she says, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She inspects the grain of the woods, runs her hand across it. “I’m fine. This is nice.”

 

He almost laughs at her speaking the word he was just pondering, even though it’s in reference to an inanimate object. “Thanks,” he says. “I built it myself.”

 

“You build a lot of things yourself, hey?” she asks.

 

He shrugs as he places sausage into a hot skillet. “I guess it’s my job to build things, but yeah, it’s easy when there’s so much scrap wood leftover at the job site.”

 

Clarke is still staring at the wood. “You should sell these.”

 

“Tables?”

 

“Furniture. Yeah. I’d buy your tables,” she says, looking up at him finally, and he sees in her gaze that she is weirdly trying to apologize or something for the night before. He’s not sure how he can read that in her words and expression, but he can, and he wants to tell her she doesn’t have to worry about it, that they can just pretend that whole lips-touching-in-the-yard thing never happened.

 

Octavia bounces into the kitchen before he can get anywhere. “Good morning!” she says brightly, and her excited energy fills the room. Octavia’s moods are contagious, and this particular mood is ratcheted up to the highest degree, he knows, because today is the day she’s been dreaming about for years.

 

“Good morning, Tav,” Clarke says as she gets up to pour some coffee. Octavia pulls Clarke into a hug and starts jumping up and down, and Clarke laughs. “Just a little excited, are we?”

 

“Today’s the day!” Octavia sings. “Today’s the day I run the Green! And my favourite people will be with me, and it will be glorious!”

 

Clarke smiles indulgently at Octavia. “It will be amazing!”

 

Octavia buzzes over to Bellamy and starts doing her jumping-hug with him. “Are you ready big brother? Today’s the day!”

 

Bellamy chuckles, but not enough to completely hide the nervousness in his voice. “It is indeed. I’m ready if you’re ready, O.”

 

She releases him and goes for her own coffee. “Clarke, how are you doing this morning?” she asks.

 

Clarke shrugs. “I’m okay. I feel… mostly relieved, I think.”

 

Octavia looks at Bellamy. “Did she tell you about shithead?”

 

Bellamy nods, trying to read Clarke. “Found her on the porch last night with a bottle of wine and a pack of Camel Lights.”

 

“Clarke!” Octavia says, slapping her arm playfully. “You were supposed to go to bed.”

 

Clarke sighs. “I know. But I was so keyed up, and I know this is going to sound weird, but I just needed to sit in the dark for a while. Bellamy was kind enough to keep me company when he got back. You guys should start a home for wayward, broken-hearted girls.”

 

Bellamy laughs. “We can name it after Octavia, who’s made me suffer through all of her breakups from middle school through the present.”

 

“Hey!” Octavia says, this time slapping Bellamy’s arm somewhat less than playfully.

 

“Look, I want to thank you both for being here for me last night,” Clarke says. “It’s been coming for a while, but it’s still really jarring to finally have if end. So I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“Always, Clarke,” Octavia says, sliding her arm around Clarke’s shoulders and giving a squeeze.

 

“But it’s time for me to move on, and the first order of business is getting you down the Green today, young lady,” she says, squeezing Octavia right back. “So let’s not talk about this whole breakup thing, and just enjoy being on the river together, okay? Happy river thoughts only, that’s the rule.”

 

Octavia smiles ruefully, but she agrees. “Sounds good to me.”

 

**

 

The logistics of a river trip are the most important part. If you don’t have a way to get to and from the river, well, you’re kind of screwed. The logistics of the Green are nothing new for this crew, but there’s something about taking Octavia through the ritual for the first time that feels special to both Clarke and Bellamy. Octavia has been “shuttle bunny” enough times—meaning she’s ended up driving the car from the put-in to the take-out so shuttle doesn’t have to be set beforehand—that she knows the drill, but this time she’s one of the people going down into the river gorge instead of just driving around it.

 

The first order of business is to leave at least one car at the takeout. Clarke drives her car separately, as she’s planning to head back to Knoxville after the run. They meet Miller and Anya there, and then load all of their boats into the back of Bellamy’s truck, an F-250 that has the name of his contracting company, Blake Builders, stencilled on the side. Bellamy and Miller make sure the boats are strapped down safely and then they all jump inside the vehicle for the drive to the put-in.

 

“That’s fucked up, Clarke,” Miller says to her in the backseat, where she sits sandwiched between him and Anya, after Anya gets her to give a short rundown of the Finn situation.

 

“Isn’t it?” Anya says, looking fierce as always. “You are so much better off without that piece of playboating trash, Clarke.”

 

Clarke just laughs. “Thanks guys,” she says. “I already made a deal with those two,” she says, gesturing toward Octavia and Bellamy where they’re chatting up front, “that we’ll forget about the sad-sack heartbreak stuff today and just focus on the river and Octavia.”

 

Miller pats her on the knee. “Sounds good to me,” he says. “But we got your back, Clarke.”

 

She smiles. “I appreciate it.”

 

They soon pull into the parking lot near the put-in and Octavia turns up HAIM on the stereo so they can “get fired up!” for the river while they unload their boats from the back of Bellamy’s truck and pull their gear out to get dressed. In addition to the boat itself, kayaking essentials include a spray skirt, a life jacket, a helmet, and a paddle. Clarke is wearing her go-to kayaking clothes, a sporty bikini under neoprene pants and long-sleeved neoprene top. Over this she wears a specialized jacket called a dry top, which is long-sleeved with rubber gaskets at the neck and wrists. The dry top is tucked into the spray skirt so that when she's sealed inside her kayak, the dry top prevents water from getting inside if she flips upside down and needs to roll back up.

 

Once the spray skirt is on, she pulls her life jacket over top and then puts on her helmet. She completes the outfit with shoes that are low profile enough to fit inside her boat but sturdy enough that she can hike on trails and rocks. This type of outfit is key to keeping warm on the river on a chilly spring day like today, and the rest of the group is wearing something similar. After she's fully dressed, she checks the back of her boat to make sure she has her med kit and her break-down paddle (a spare paddle in two pieces that fits in the back of her boat, in case someone loses or breaks their paddle)—Clarke likes to be prepared for all possible scenarios on the water. Once she’s satisfied that she has everything, she's ready to go.

 

The walk from the parking lot to the river is a little under a mile, and each paddler carries his or her boat on their shoulder. Octavia and Anya head down first, with Octavia talking a mile a minute about the line she's planning to take at the unfortunately-named rapid Go Left and Die (she'll go right, obviously). Her energy is infectious. Clarke thinks back to her own first time doing this, six years before, with Raven and Wells, and the buzzing feeling is still familiar. It had been one of the best days of her life, and she makes a mental note to call both of her old friends later, to reminisce and also catch them up on her current life situation. Wells doesn’t really kayak anymore, now that he’s a hot-shot lawyer in DC, but they still talk all the time, and he’ll definitely want to know all about what happened with Finn.

 

She really misses Raven, who would be here with them if she weren't on a job site in West Africa. It turns out her mechanical abilities are in demand around the world, and she works for a company that designs and installs renewable energy infrastructure in remote communities. Raven gets sent to places to assess the needs of the community and design the systems, and she’s in the middle of a month-long stint of fieldwork in Mali. Clarke will have to try and catch her on Skype. She’s been venting to Raven about her relationship uncertainties for a while, and Raven will no doubt be unsurprised by the latest development.

 

Clarke looks around at the parking lot, which is really just a grassy clearing in the woods with a fence around it, and is thankful for the gorgeous weather, thankful that she’s in this place, with these people. She could have driven back to Knoxville after things went down with Finn, to get away from it all, but it was important to her to be with Octavia today, and she knows that the river is a healing place for her. So it’s time to clear her head and focus. She puts all thoughts of the breakup out of her mind as she lifts her kayak onto her shoulder, following Miller and Bellamy as they go after Octavia and Anya.

 

Bellamy had fallen quiet once they got to the parking lot and his facial expression indicates that he’s thinking way too hard about something. Not for the first time that morning, she feels a flash of mortification in her belly as she remembers the impulsive kiss from the night before. She knows she can partially blame that impulse on the fact that she’d been reeling from the breakup and she’d been drinking, but she’s still mortified. He’d been there, listening to her, and she’d been digging her fingers and toes into the earth and feeling like herself again for the first time in a long time, and Clarke’s a risk-taker at heart. She’s a thrill seeker. And that part of her sometimes follows her gut without fully thinking things through. So when something in her gut told her to kiss Bellamy Blake, she went for it without thinking about why or how or what the ramifications might be.

 

Fortunately—her internal humiliation aside—the ramifications are looking minimal. Bellamy’s got a girlfriend. Clarke was able to use the “breakup card” to justify her actions in a way he understood. It doesn’t have to be some awkward, dramatic thing between them, because they’re both adults. They’re adults and they’re friends, and they don’t have to ever speak of it again, which is probably best for everyone involved.

 

But it’s still a thing that happened. And now she knows what it’s like to kiss Bellamy Blake, and she suspects that she won’t be able to erase that knowledge from her memory any time soon, regardless of her good intentions. Clarke’s not sure what that means. But it’s been less than twelve hours since she broke up with a long-term boyfriend, so she forgives herself for not understanding everything that’s going on with her emotionally right now.

 

About halfway down the trail, Clarke decides Bellamy’s being too quiet, and that he could probably use some conversation to distract himself from his nerves.

 

"You ready for this?" Clarke asks.

 

Bellamy lets out a short laugh. "As I'll ever be," he answers, shrugging his shoulders slightly (which is impressive, given that he's carrying a kayak filled with gear on one of them).

 

He’s carrying a lot of the same things as Clarke—a med kit, a break-down paddle, a set of hand paddles, a dry-bag with food and water. He’s done enough expeditions to be able to anticipate the potential situations they might deal with on the water, and he’s prepared for all of them. Clarke realizes as she watches him walking in front of her that this is the first time they've done a river trip together. They've seen each other on the water in the past, of course, even paddled sections of rivers together when their groups have met up. But as far as the full trip goes, from settling shuttle all the way to the takeout, this is the first time they’ve really, truly done it all together.

  
"Hey," she says.

 

"What’s up?"

 

"I just realized that this is the first time you and I have officially done a river trip together."

 

"Really?" he asks, surprised. "But I see you on the river all the time."

 

"Exactly. We see each other on the river, but we’ve never actually done an entire trip together, logistics-wise.”

 

“Come on,” he replies. “Seriously?”

 

“Seriously,” she says.

 

“Huh,” he says. “That’s weird. I feel like we’ve known each other long enough, and paddle with enough of the same people, that we would have done this by now.”

 

“I know, right?” Clarke says. There’s something about doing it all with someone, the planning and the execution, that’s a bonding experience for paddlers. You have to trust the people you go on the water with. It feels like a new step in their friendship.

 

“Well, now’s as good a time to start as any,” Bellamy says, “what with this being _the_ most important river trip of my life.”

 

“Awww,” Clarke says. “I know you’re freaking out with worry, Bellamy, but it’s pretty adorable in a protective older brother kind of way.”

 

“Tell that to Octavia,” he says, chuckling.

 

“So this is more important to you than, say, the trip where you guys ran the Grand Canyon of the Stikine River out in British Columbia at record flows?” she asks.

 

“Infinitely,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong, the Stikine was definitely in the ‘trip of a lifetime’ category. But this is bigger, to me.”

 

“We’ll get it right,” Clarke says.

 

And they do. The first section of river is mostly “boogie water,” easy class II-III that’s good for getting warmed up before the bigger rapids, and Octavia has them all laughing as she goofs off before the gradient steepens and the hard part starts. For some of the drops, Bellamy goes immediately in front of Octavia and has her follow his lines and body movements as she paddles behind him. For other drops, they get out and scout first. Octavia had already planned on walking Gorilla and a few other big ones, so when they get there she gets out to portage around and meets them at the rock ledge below the drop.

 

Bellamy runs it first, an efficient line meant to get him back to Octavia as quickly as possible. He pulls into the eddy where she’s standing and waiting and watches as Miller, Anya, and finally Clarke launch off the drop after him. Clarke’s line is clean as hell, as usual. She’s such a good kayaker, and it amazes him that she’s been able to maintain her level of paddling while she’s been in med school. As she pulls into the eddy next to him his mind flashes back briefly to six years before when they’d been in this very spot, her beaming and him eating crow. She’s beaming now, too, as she high-fives Octavia and they start talking about the next set of rapids. He’d suspected back then that Clarke was there to stay, and sure enough, here she is.

 

Octavia’s lines are clean too, for the most part, and where she does wobble a bit, she has good enough instincts to recover in time. She only flips over once, at the bottom of a meaty drop called Rapid Transit, but she stays calm, sets her paddle, and smoothly rolls back up with a grin.

 

Bellamy finally starts to relax once they’ve gotten past Sunshine, the last of the really big rapids, and the fun of it all begins to sink in. He’s always loved paddling with his sister, ever since he first put her in a boat when she was a kid. She’d gotten away from it for a while as a teenager, getting distracted by typical teenager things, and he wasn’t sure she would ever get back into it. When she’d started paddling again, he’d been so happy. Their shared love of the sport only strengthened their already close relationship. And now they’re here, almost finished with a rite of passage that has him feeling overwhelmed with pride and love.

 

He’s able to fully relax when they pull into the take-out and Octavia lets out a scream of triumphant joy.

 

“I did it! We did it!” she’s chanting as they all get out, and the sun is shining through the trees and lighting up her smile even brighter. By the time they all get to the parking lot, she’s tossing her kayak to the ground behind a row of vehicles and pulling Miller in for a celebratory dance.

 

“I think this occasion calls for some beers,” Anya says as she pulls a cooler out of back of her station wagon and opens it up to reveal a six-pack on ice.

 

“’The Champagne of Beers!’” Octavia exclaims as she accepts the can of High Life. “Perfect for celebrating. Thanks, Anya.”

 

Anya nods at her, and even smiles a little bit, which is big for her, because Anya’s not really a smiler.

 

Bellamy sets his boat down and begins to remove his gear, the early spring sun feeling warmer than he’d expected it to. He sets the wet gear in his boat and pulls off his dry top and thermal layer until he’s shirtless, his damp skin still warm from the exertion of the river. In a certain light, it looks like there is actually steam coming off his body in the cool spring air. He accepts a beer from Anya and stands in the circle with his friends.

 

Clarke has pulled off her life jacket and dry-top too and is standing in a tight green neoprene top and pants, a muscular little dynamo. She raises her beer with a smile.

 

“I’d like to raise a toast to Octavia, for completely nailing her first Green run!” she says, and everyone cheers and taps their beer cans together. 

 

“Thank you guys for taking me down it,” Octavia says. “I couldn’t have asked for a better crew. And hey, I have another toast to make. Here’s to Clarke moving to Arkville at the end of the summer for her medical residency!”

 

Everyone turns to Clarke, whose eyes are wide and cheeks are flushed. She bites her lip, a small smile on her face.

 

“It’s true,” she says.

 

“Wait, really?” Bellamy asks. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

She shrugs. “I got kind of distracted by the whole relationship implosion thing.”

 

Anya scowls. “Fuck him. You’re still gonna move, right?”

 

“Of course,” Clarke says.

 

“Good,” Anya deadpans.

 

“That’s awesome, Clarke,” Miller says. “If you need any pointers on moving from Knoxville, Monty can help you out.” Monty had moved from Knoxville to Arkville a few years ago when things got serious between him and Miller.

 

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m sure I’ll need it. The idea of moving is pretty daunting right now.”

 

“I didn’t know you were even thinking about moving to Arkville,” Bellamy says, because he’s pretty caught off guard by this, to be honest. Clarke has always been this person who lives in another place and is dating another person, someone he sees every once in a while but who is mostly elsewhere, doing other things. That’s all changing, apparently.

 

“Yeah,” she says. “There’s a clinic in town that has a great family medicine residency program. I didn’t say anything because it was such a small chance of me actually getting matched there—it could have been anywhere, really. But I was really hoping, and it all worked out.”

 

Octavia throws her arm around Clarke. “Just think, we can hang out all the time! And paddle together all the time, too. It’s going to be amazing!”

 

Their grins are infectious, and Bellamy is reminded once again how happy he is that his sister has someone like Clarke in her life. And now she’ll be around more often. He realizes he’s looking forward to that.

 

And he realizes that he’s happy in general. He reminds himself to stop and appreciate that, because it can be easy to take for granted if you’re not careful. He looks around at his friends, smiling and laughing together in this gorgeous place, and feels a rush of gratitude for them, and for the river. Life is good.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am a crazy person. No, I will not continue to post new chapters at this rate (as much as I wish I had the free time to do so!). Thanks for being awesome and reading!

Clarke moves to Arkville in August to get started with her residency, into a great place close to both downtown and the clinic where she’ll be doing her residency. She’d loved the little house when she found it, but it had more bedrooms than she needed, which is how she ends up living with Octavia and Raven. Octavia has always lived with Bellamy, and decides that Clarke needing a roommate is as good a reason as any to finally move out on her own, closer to the action and to the city hospital where she works as a nurse. So she jumps on the chance. Raven travels a lot for work, but she does need a place to land when she is in the country, and decides that living with Clarke in Arkville is as good a home base as any.

 

The move is both exhilarating and scary for Clarke. She’s thrilled to be done with med school, but it all feels so grown up and real all of a sudden too, like adulthood is really beginning. After her breakup with Finn, she’d had time to think about her life and where she was going. Career-wise, she’s heading in the exact direction she’s always wanted, and that’s never been an issue, really. She realized, however, that in terms of kayaking, she’d been limiting herself a bit. When she was younger, she’d always dreamed of going on expedition-style trips, pushing her limits, and she hasn’t really made that happen yet. Part of it had been Finn. His style of kayaking was more about driving to a spot on a river and practicing freestyle moves on a standing wave or hole all day, and because Clarke wanted to spend time with him, she would join him in this. She’d gotten pretty good at playboating, enough to place in the top three in a few local competitions, but it wasn’t her passion.

 

So when she digs deep and gets in tune with what she really wants, a big part of her hopes for moving to Arkville have to do with dialing into what she wants with kayaking and working hard to get back to the roots of her love for the sport. She knows her work schedule will make it hard to do this, but she vows to make it happen.

 

Moving in with Octavia and Raven is every bit as fun as she expects it to be. She and Raven had lived together in college, too, so there’s a sense of homecoming when they show up on move-in day with their boxes. Their house is adorable, and comes complete with a full front and back yard—Octavia wants to get a dog, but Raven thinks they should start with a cat first—which Clarke loves about it.

 

She takes the top floor, which is a spacious attic room with a nook where she can put her desk. Octavia’s room is on the main floor, which also has a kitchen, a dining room, and a living room. The basement goes to Raven, because it has space for her to tinker with her gadgets and just be a genius in general. It’s perfect for them. The evening of the day they all move in, they order pizza and make a toast with cheap champagne to the future (and, Octavia insists, to their “ultimate lady bachelor pad”).

 

They have a house-warming party after they’ve settled in a bit, and Clarke is thrilled to invite everyone over. It feels amazing to finally live in the town where the majority of her friends already live, and throwing a party somehow makes it official, like she’s a real part of the Arkville crew now.

 

Summer is still in the air, so she wears a soft green shift dress that’s casual enough for this group of decidedly un-dressy people, but still cute. She’s allowed herself more than few fits of vanity lately, because another part of moving is feeling like she’s finally ready to get back out there and date after breaking up with Finn. It’s been long enough, and she’s actually excited about being single. It’s been so long since she’s really flirted, since she’s enjoyed the thrill of a chase, since she’s gotten _laid_. Her vibrator is great and all, don’t get her wrong, but she’s craving human touch. So she wants to look cute, because there are a lot of hot guys—and girls too, Clarke likes both—in Arkville, and who knows who might show up at the party.

 

Anya and her husband arrive first with their toddler daughter and also with Monroe, which is perfect because they get to drink wine in the backyard and have girl talk while Monroe inspects the fire pit with Raven and makes a plan for what she’ll build once it gets dark. They don’t have to worry about the fire department showing up, because Monroe _is_ the fire department. She’s a full-time firefighter with the city now, which everyone thinks is awesome given her pyromaniacal tendencies. Anya has brought them the gift of a decorative sword to hang on the wall of their house, with a card saying “To three of my favourite warrior women,” and they gush over the detailed metalwork as they decide where to put it.

 

Monty and Miller show up next, along with Monty’s business partner, Jasper, who comes bearing a tray of “edibles” he made in the kitchen of the farm-to-table restaurant they co-own downtown. Monty had gone to grad school in botany and developed a love of foraging for edible foods in the wild. It turns out this concept was becoming quite popular in the culinary scene, so in addition to sourcing their ingredients from local farms, their restaurant specializes in dishes featuring whatever Monty is currently finding in the woods on his foraging trips. Jasper is the chef, and when he’s not cooking their menu he likes to experiment with cannabis (“Seriously you guys, it’s only a matter of time before it gets legalized here too. You should see the money people are making selling this kind of stuff in Colorado and Washington,” is how he typically justifies it).

 

Jasper also has no filter. He plunks the tray down on the picnic table and says, “Guess who’s getting married!!!”

 

Everyone whips their heads around to find Jasper pointing at Miller and Monty, who are smiling shyly and shaking their heads at Jasper.

 

“Geez, dude,” Monty says. “We were going to tell them, you don’t have to shout it from the rooftops.”

 

“Yes, I do,” Jasper protests. “My best friend and business partner is getting married. I _definitely_ have to shout it from the rooftops.”

 

Everyone else gets up and rushes to congratulate the happy couple.

 

“That’s amazing news!” Octavia says as she pulls them both in for a hug and then grabs Miller by the arm and shakes him, barely containing her squeals. The two of them have a special bond, given his close relationship with Bellamy, and Octavia considers Miller to be like a second brother to her. “Oh my god, Miller, you’re getting married!”

 

Miller looks bashful, which Clarke thinks is just about the cutest thing she’s ever seen, and she’s touched by this moment, and full of happiness for their friends.

 

“I think this calls for some cheap champagne!” she says, and heads for the fridge, where she’d stashed a few bottles earlier anyway.  

 

“Good thing we have an entire case in the basement,” Raven says with a smirk.

 

“Do you guys usually keep a case of champagne in your house?” Monty asks.

 

Raven shrugs and says, “Costco.”

 

The evening takes on an extra festive air after that, the house becoming vibrant as more and more people show up. Monroe gets a fire going and people gather in the backyard, the living room, and the kitchen. Murphy shows up with some of his rock climbing friends, Lincoln and Lexa, who are both extremely attractive. Octavia and Clarke find themselves in heavy conversation with the strangers, with Octavia swearing she’s seen Lincoln around town before, and Lexa making intense eye contact with Clarke that has Clarke thinking this just might be the place to start putting herself back out there. She and Lexa exchange numbers and make tentative plans to hang out.

 

Clarke is smiling to herself as she pulls a batch of tater tots out of the oven—she wants to make sure there’s food for people who don’t want to get high, too—when Bellamy walks into the kitchen with his girlfriend, Jen. She’s seen a lot of Bellamy since they moved in. He’s over at their place all the time, because he makes up excuses to drop by and check on Octavia. They aren’t very good excuses, and the girls think its hilarious that he thinks he’s fooling them.

 

But they indulge him anyway, and Clarke has a feeling he’ll be almost like their fourth housemate. This is the first time she’s seen him with Jen, though, which, come to think of it, is maybe a little odd. But then again maybe they aren’t the kind of couple who have to be with each other constantly, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

“Hey guys,” she says, waving to them with her oven mitts still on. “Welcome to the housewarming slash engagement party!”

 

“Hey Clarke,” Bellamy says, pulling her in for a quick hug before turning to Jen. “Clarke, this is Jen, Jen, this is—“

 

“Oh, we’ve already met,” Clarke says, grinning at Bellamy mischievously before turning to give Jen a quick welcome hug, too. “It’s good to see you, I’m glad you could make it.”

 

“You two know each other?” Bellamy asks, confused.

 

“Clarke’s been coming to some of my classes at the Yoga Center,” Jen says to him before turning back to Clarke. “We missed you the other day.”

 

“Oh my god,” Clarke says, “My schedule at the clinic is killing me right now. I just want to get into a routine, but every day is like a new level of crazy. I’m hoping things calm down next week so I can make it to your Thursday class.”

 

Bellamy still looks confused.

 

“You gonna be alright there champ?” Clarke asks, laughing. She’s learning more and more that Bellamy’s moments of social ineptitude are frequent, highly entertaining occurrences.

 

“Yeah, just surprised, that’s all.”

 

“Arkville’s a small town,” Jen says.

 

And it is. Octavia had recommended Jen’s yoga class, and of course Clarke had known who Jen was when she went, but it wasn’t like she felt the need to tell Bellamy that they were acquainted. She likes Jen, a lot. And she’s happy for Bellamy, even as she has to keep working to ignore the nagging memory of the kiss, which still makes her feel a twinge of guilt when she thinks of it. _Especially_ now that she knows Jen.

 

She wonders if Bellamy feels a twinge of something, too, because he still seems a little off, but then Octavia is crashing into him with a tackle hug, yelling, “Big brother!” and Clarke gets back to making sure everyone has drinks and food (“You’re so gonna be the mom of the house, Clarke,” Octavia had accurately predicted over champagne and pizza on their first night).

 

Bellamy is happy for the distraction of his sister, because he was trying to pretend that seeing Clarke wearing a nicer sort of dress for the first time wasn’t totally fucking with his head and it wasn’t going very well. Clarke is small but curvy, and her shape is accentuated by the green dress she’s wearing, along with the toned lines of her muscular arms and legs. She’s wearing some smoky eye shadow and turquoise earrings, and she looks exceedingly pretty. Octavia told him Clarke’s just playing the field right now, getting back into dating, but he wonders suddenly if there’s anyone in particular that she’s dressing up for (“That one’s gonna get snatched up again quick,” Murphy says later out by the fire, and Bellamy thinks—fears?—that he’s not wrong).

 

So Octavia’s a good distraction, and she takes him out back to find Monty and Miller, even though he already knows about the engagement, what with Miller being his best friend and all. Who do you think he called first? It’s fun to have everybody around to celebrate, not just the engagement, but the girls’ new place, too. Octavia’s been gone for barely a month and he misses her like hell, even though he knows she was going to leave the nest eventually and he can’t think of a better place for her to land than here.

 

Bellamy hangs out in the backyard by the fire for a while, at one point finding himself playing the referee between Raven and Wick, who are bickering over something stupid. They’ve been doing this for years, practically every time they’ve seen each other, which is now going to be more frequent with Raven living in Arkville full time. They have a pattern: They fight, and then they hook up, and then they go back to fighting, and then they hook up again. And so on and so forth. Bellamy suspects the only reason they haven’t started dating for real is that Raven travels so much for work, and she refuses to get tied down to Wick. Wick, who prides himself on being a macho know-it-all, is like a puppy in her presence, and for his sake Bellamy hopes Raven changes her mind soon.

 

He manages to extricate himself from a particularly heated discussion about Tesla Motors and heads for the cooler to get a drink, and that’s where Clarke finds him, watching as Raven and Wick continue to spar.

 

“They’re already talking about Tesla?” Clarke asks.

 

“Yep,” Bellamy replies, sipping on his Tecate.

 

“Then at this rate, he is _definitely_ sleeping over tonight,” Clarke says.

 

“You think so?” Bellamy asks.

 

“I know so,” she responds. She bumps against his elbow slightly. “Hey, I meant to ask you. Do you know anyone who’s doing dawn patrol these days?”

 

“Dawn patrol” was the term, stolen from surfing, that Arkville locals used to refer to a Green run done early in the mornings before work. Depending on the time of year, there were usually a few devotees who could be found on the water with the sunrise.

 

“Miller and I were doing a few back in early summer, but he hasn’t been as into it lately. Says he treasures his sleep more now that he’s in his thirties or something. Why, you looking to get out there in the mornings?”

 

Clarke nods. “Yeah, I am. It’s looking like that’ll be the best time for me to paddle, with the way my work schedule is probably going to turn out. And I really want to work on my kayaking. Like, for real, start training so I can run some harder stuff.”

 

Bellamy watches her, noting the thread of intensity in her voice.

 

“I’ll do dawn patrol with you,” he finds himself saying.

 

She turns to look at him, her eyebrows lifting slightly, and he notices, weirdly, how light they are against her skin in the firelight.

 

“Really?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I love dawn patrol. And we just started building a house in a development about halfway between here and the Green, so it’s extra convenient for me to get to the job site after.”

 

“Okay, great. That’s perfect. What time do you like to go?”

 

“Six-thirty at the take-out too early for you?”

 

“Nope,” she says.

 

“See you at six-thirty on Monday then,” he says, sticking his hand out.

 

She takes it, and they shake on it. “Deal,” she says.

 

“So you want to step it up,” he asks, tucking his hand back into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

 

“I do,” she says. “If I’m going to live in the middle of a bunch of class V runs, I might as well start running them all, right?”

 

“Might as well,” he says. And he knows she can.

 

“I want to start with the basics, though. Train on the Green as much as I can to start building up endurance, tightening my lines. That kind of thing.”

 

“You’re turning into a true local, Griffin,” he says approvingly. “And you’re doing it right. The best way to get better at kayaking is to do it every day you possibly can.”

 

“I just want to run the shit,” she says with a shrug and a grin.

 

“You will,” he says, grinning right back.

 

**

 

Clarke pulls into the parking lot at the take-out the following Monday at six thirty on the dot and finds Bellamy already waiting in his work truck. He gets out to greet her, holding a steaming travel mug with the word “Stonehenge” printed across it in his hand.

 

“Want to just throw your boat in the back of my truck and do it that way?” he asks.

 

“Sounds good to me,” she says, unstrapping it from her car.

 

She brings her own travel mug—hers says “DollyWood”—when she hops into his truck. She’s excited about this, her very first dawn patrol, but she’s also still waking up. It’s early, and they’re both quiet at first on the drive, the sounds of NPR filling the silence before Bellamy switches to a classic rock station and the sounds of Neil Young and Crazy Horse singing “Cinnamon Girl” fill the air. They start talking as their coffee kicks in, about nothing in particular, mostly Octavia and the new place. It’s easy between them.

 

The river feels good in the crisp morning air. They both know the lines well enough that they don’t have to stop, they can just run the whole thing from start to finish. Clarke pays attention to Bellamy as she follows him, curious about how he moves through each drop. He’s an incredibly efficient paddler, and if she hopes to improve she needs to work on her efficiency, too. They establish a rhythm, taking the time to make eye contact and maybe say a few things between drops if there’s something to discuss, but mostly just going with the flow.

 

The sun is higher by the time they finish and Clarke relishes the peacefulness of the woods in the morning, a perfect counterpart to the energy flowing through her veins after the run. They load their boats onto her car and head back up to the put-in to get Bellamy’s truck, and they talk about what they’ve both got ahead of them at work that day. By the time she waves to Bellamy as he drives away in his own vehicle she’s feeling refreshed and ready to head to the clinic. She could get used to starting her days like this.

 

And she does. They both get used to it. They meet for dawn patrol several days a week, sometimes even up to five, depending on their schedules. The sun rises later each day as the season changes to fall, and they adjust their meeting times accordingly, but for the most part the rhythm stays the same. Meet at the takeout, jump into Bellamy’s truck, head for the put-in, run the river, drive back to the put-in in Clarke’s car, and then head off to work. Repeat as needed.

 

Clarke finds herself looking forward to the shuttle drives almost as much as she looks forward to the river. She likes being around Bellamy. Sometimes they talk a lot on the drives, sometimes hardly at all, depending on their moods, but she likes that it can be either. Sometimes they talk about serious things, sometimes they talk about idiotic things, and they talk about everything in between, too, if they want. She feels comfortable with him, and he seems comfortable with her, and she thinks it’s amazing, really, that she’d felt a connection with him when they’d first gotten to know each other, and that she’d been right about it. She’d been right about him when her instincts told her that he _got it_ , and now their friendship has evolved into this, and there’s something incredibly satisfying about that.

 

They do this for months, and every day Clarke feels like she gets a little better, a little stronger. The training over the course of the fall ends up being advantageous, because there’s a big race on the Green in early November, and Clarke decides to enter. When she wins the women’s category, nobody is surprised, because she’s been out there nearly every day all fall, working on her lines. Bellamy places in the top five in the men’s category, and they nod at each other in understanding during the awards ceremony before giving each other a high five that Octavia catches on camera, an adorable moment of them being pleased with how they helped get each other to this place (This is followed immediately by another picture of Clarke giving Bellamy the finger after he snatches her medal and hides it in his pocket, which is of course the one that Octavia puts on Instagram instead of the cute one where they’re actually behaving themselves).

 

They keep up the intensity after the race, because Clarke is determined to train all winter and be ready for creeking season in the spring, which is when the best quality class V runs in the region flow on a regular basis. It’s getting harder and harder to get up and out of the house early when the days keep getting colder and colder, but she knows this is what she has to deal with if she wants to eventually do expeditions. So she sticks with it, and Bellamy is right there with her.

 

She’s heading for the take-out on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when she gets a series of confusing texts from Octavia:

 

_Are you paddling with B this morning?_

_Is he okay?_

_Take care of him for me xx_

Clarke doesn’t respond because she’s driving, but she’s slightly alarmed by the fact that Octavia is clearly worried about her brother. His truck is in the lot when she gets there—he’s nearly always there first—and she watches carefully as he emerges from the cab looking drawn and tired.

 

“Hey,” she says, getting out of her car. “How’s it going?”

 

He grunts and reaches for the straps on her boat.

 

“I got some weird texts from Octavia just now,” she says.

 

His hands pause and he closes his eyes. “Of course you did.”

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“It’s fine,” he grumbles. “Jen and I broke up.”

 

“What? Oh no, Bellamy,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

 

He shakes his head gruffly as he yanks the strap free. “It’s fine. Let’s just go kayaking, okay?”

 

It’s like there’s a storm cloud above his head physically pushing his brow down and warning her off. She decides to heed the warning, at first. She knows Bellamy well enough by now that she respects when he doesn’t want to talk. So she gets her gear to toss into the back of his truck while he gets her boat, actions they do so often now it’s like muscle memory taking over, and they stay quiet.

 

As his glower settles into a kind of quiet grumpiness on the drive to the put-in, she thinks about how he was there for her earlier this year when she broke up with Finn, and how she hadn’t really felt like talking about things either until he asked. The least she can do is offer him the same.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks as Stevie Nicks croons “Dreams” through the radio in the background, silently giving thanks that the DJ had chosen this song over “Landslide” because really, a breakup situation can only handle a certain level of Fleetwood Mac.

 

“Not really,” he grumbles, eyes still on the road, but he doesn’t look mad.

 

“That’s fine,” she replies. “I just wanted to offer.”

 

He stays quiet as they get to the put-in and head down to the water. Clarke feels sad for Bellamy, and for Jen, too. They’d seemed happy. But she can’t get a read on how he’s feeling about it, and if she’s honest with herself she’s really curious about what happened. She’s come to care for Bellamy, so seeing him in pain causes her pain, too. And she can’t pinpoint exactly why, but she doesn’t find the news all that surprising.  

 

Bellamy stays quiet until they they’re sitting on the bank at the put-in and he asks if she’s ready. They paddle the first stretch together in silence, the morning air the coldest it’s been so far that year. Real winter has yet to come to the North Carolina mountains, but it wouldn’t be surprising if they came across some ice along the banks sometime soon.

 

Clarke is prepared to paddle the entire river in silence, given Bellamy’s mood, so she’s surprised when she pulls into the eddy below Frankenstein, the first major rapid on the steep section, and finds Bellamy sitting there waiting for her instead of heading for the next drop like he usually does.

 

She looks at him curiously, and his face softens in a way that makes him look younger. He lets out a breath.

 

“She said I’d never marry her,” he says.

 

“Ohhhh…” Clarke says slowly, her eyes widening. So he does want to talk.

 

He peels out and keeps going, and she follows close enough that they can hear each other over the moving water.

 

“Was she right?” Clarke asks as they pull into the eddy above the next set of rapids.

 

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says, frustrated. “I hadn’t thought about it, really.”

 

They continue through the drop and resume the conversation below, following this pattern of paddling and talking as they descend the river. It’s how they usually do it, when they’re feeling talkative on the water, but this conversation feels heavier than the rest.

 

“You hadn’t thought about it at all?” Clarke asks.

 

“I mean, Octavia’s on my ass about it from time to time, but it’s not something I sit around pondering in my free time.”

 

“How long were you guys together?” she asks.

 

“Like nine months or so?” he says. “It’s the longest I’ve dated someone in a while. It’s not like I was in any kind of rush.”

 

Clarke thinks about it for a few moments before responding. “When did this happen?”

 

“Yesterday,” he says. “We were trying to figure out Thanksgiving plans. She wanted me to come with her to her parents’ place in Chapel Hill, and I told her I already had plans to eat dinner at your guys’ place, and she was suddenly just _furious_ with me.”

 

Clarke makes a face. “That’s no fun.”

 

“Not at all,” he says.

 

Clarke doesn’t say that it might have been a good idea to talk to his girlfriend about major holiday plans a little earlier than two days before said holiday, but she refrains, knowing that Octavia has almost certainly given him an earful about this already. Bellamy can be such a dude about things sometimes.

 

“So one minute we’re fighting about Thanksgiving,” Bellamy says after they run Gorilla. “And the next minute she’s yelling about how I’ll never marry her anyway so it’s probably best if we just end things now before someone gets hurt.”

 

Clarke sighs. “Oh dear. Well, this might not be what you want to hear right now, but… she’s probably right.”

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You and Octavia must have conferences before you talk to me about shit.”

 

Clarke shakes her head. “No, we’re just both women and we get this kind of thing, okay? Jen’s what, twenty-nine?”

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says warily.

 

“Well, if she’s the kind of woman who wants to eventually get married and have kids, that kind of thing, then she’s probably just making sure she’s on the same page before she gets in too deep with somebody. It’s smart, really.”

 

Bellamy looks at her in exasperation. “Seriously? I’m telling you about my breakup and you’re taking her side?”

 

“Well, that depends, it’s not super clear what your side is. Do you love her?”

 

Bellamy’s heart stops, for all intents and purposes, when Clarke asks him that. He’d wanted to talk to her, even though he’d be stubborn about it at first, and it was feeling good so far, even though he hates that kind of thing. He’s just not completely prepared for things to get this deep. Which is stupid on his part, because he knows Clarke, knows she doesn’t shy away from the big questions.

 

“I… fuck, Clarke, I don’t know. Maybe I could have, someday. I really wasn’t sure yet.”

And it’s true. He knows this is an unpopular answer. Octavia had rattled him the night before about the same thing, and he wishes someone would give him a fucking break. He expects Clarke to start lecturing him like Octavia had, making him feel like even more of a piece of shit for not meeting some level of expectation that apparently exists that nobody bothered to tell him about, but instead her expression softens.

 

“It’s okay, Bellamy,” she says. “If you're not sure, then you're not sure. Better to admit that than to force something, right?”

 

“I think so, but… I just feel shitty.”

 

And he does. It’s how he’s felt since this all went down yesterday. Extremely, extremely shitty. He feels like he’s let Jen down somehow, even though he knows he can’t force something that’s not there. He knows she’s right. He’s not going to marry her. As soon as she’d said that, he’d known she was 100% correct, and he feels like shit about it. It’s the strangest feeling in the world, a mix of relief and regret that he couldn’t be a different person for her.

 

It feels good to be out on the water, channeling his frustration and sadness into each stroke of the paddle, as if the river can absorb some of it and take it off of him. It does help. And it helps to talk to Clarke, too, he finds, as much as he hadn’t wanted to at the beginning.

 

“Octavia says all women think about that kind of thing, like I’m supposed to know that,” he says as they head towards Sunshine. “Did you think about it? With Finn, I mean.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widen and then her face screws up thoughtfully. “I mean… a little bit, I guess, but mostly in an abstract way. I was still so young when we got together, that kind of stuff just seemed so far off in the future. But now, if I were to get together with someone and things got serious, I would probably think about it more, even talk about it with the person. But that’s just me, I can’t speak for everyone.”

 

“Did you think about it with Lexa?” he asks, unable to hold back his curiosity about the climber Clarke had had a brief fling with after the house-warming party.

 

“No,” Clarke replies, “but it was never serious with her. She wanted it to be, I think, but I… I just wasn’t there yet, I guess.”

 

“I just hate that not being there yet makes me the bad guy,” Bellamy says. “I don’t want to be the bad guy. But I am, and the worst part is that I know it’s better in the long run because it would have ended anyway. I mean, I get it, I get where she’s coming from. I’m a dick.”

 

“You’re not a dick,” Clarke says. “You’re being honest with yourself and with her, you can’t really do much more than that.”

 

“It still just sucks, _a lot_ , in general,” he replies.

 

“Breakups just suck, completely, always,” Clarke says after Sunshine as they head for the calmer stretch of river before the take-out. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

 

Bellamy tosses his paddle up into the air and catches it again, letting himself focus on the hand-eye coordination and the feel of the water and air moving around him, reminding him that this place, this constant, is still here for him.

 

“Thanks,” he says. “Sorry to be such a downer.”

 

“It’s fine, trust me,” she says. “It’s the least I can do after you were there for me back when Finn and I broke up.”

 

He meets her gaze then, his eyes dipping momentarily to her lips, and the flush in her cheeks tells him she’s just remembered the kiss too, and, well, there’s a thing he’s aggressively blocked out of his consciousness for a while. _You kissed her back,_ a voice in his head whispers, and for the first time since it happened Bellamy admits to himself that yes, _he had_ , and he has to fight a little to stay upright in his boat when the realization hits his stomach.

 

“That’s what friends are for,” he says hoarsely, trying to clear his thoughts, and peels out of the eddy to head downstream before she can read his expression for what it is. Clarke is good at reading him, he’s come to realize since they started paddling together, to the point where it’s unnerving at times. He sets the pace so they paddle quickly to the take-out because they need to get to work—Clarke is on shift at the clinic even thought it’s the day before Thanksgiving and Bellamy is working on a table Raven commissioned him to build for her workspace, and he's happy to have a project to distract himself from his personal drama.

 

When Clarke catches him at the take-out there’s no more talk of love, the conversation turning to lighter fare, which Bellamy appreciates.

 

“See you tomorrow?” Clarke asks as she waves to him in his truck at the put-in before she drives off.

 

Thanksgiving, he remembers, and the smile on Clarke’s face makes him feel incredibly thankful for her, in that moment, for the way she’s there for him even when he's a grumpy asshole.

 

“You know it,” he says. “And Clarke?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks. For, you know.”

 

She nods. “You’re welcome.”

 

And then they both head off to their days.

 

**

 

Thanksgiving ends up being a more sizeable affair than they’d originally anticipated. All three of the housemates are there, and Bellamy comes too, of course. Miller and Monty are out of town visiting Monty’s parents, but Jasper comes over with several dishes he’s prepared at the restaurant (sans cannabis this time, he assures them, with the exception of one clearly marked dessert so nobody gets accidentally high like last time). Anya and her husband Stavros and daughter Kira come, which everybody loves, because Kira is adorable and hilarious. Octavia’s friend Lincoln comes too, whom she’d met at their housewarming party and with whom she’s been spending increasing amounts of time at the climbing gym. And of course Wick is there, picking small fights with Raven but also holding her hand under the table when they think nobody is watching.

 

Clarke loves the chaos of managing the kitchen all day, even if she gets a little exasperated at Octavia’s unsuccessful attempts to help make pumpkin pie, because she’s happy with the bustle in her house, the sounds of people laughing together and being thankful for things. She’s happy that Bellamy seems to be having a good time, which she suspects is partially due to Octavia constantly distracting him with things and partially because he’s not one to mope around too much in public. When they finally sit down to eat, Bellamy invokes a Blake household tradition and reads a passage from William Bradford’s _Of Plymouth Plantation_ before the meal (“Of course my brother feels the need to quote an _actual Pilgrim_ instead of saying grace like a normal human,” Octavia stage-whispers to Clarke, whose laugh earns her a not-entirely-unplayful glare from Bellamy).

 

The meal is amazing. Clarke’s turkey recipe is a hit—“Emeril Lagasse, I’m telling you guys”—and Jasper’s creations make it feel like a true feast. Everyone stuffs themselves, and then wanders off to find places to digest. Clarke finds herself forced out of the kitchen by Wick and Raven, who have taken over dish duty, so she wanders around the house to see what people are doing. She sees Octavia and Anya talking on the living room couch facing away from her, and heads over to join them. She’s just about there when she hears her name.

 

“Apparently she brought up Clarke, too,” Octavia is saying.

 

“No way,” Anya says incredulously.

 

“Yes way. He grumbled something about how she brought up the fact that he paddles with Clarke almost every morning but when I pushed him on it he wouldn’t say anything else.”

 

“Um, what?” Clarke says, and both of her friends spin around with guilty expressions on their faces.

 

“Oh, hey Clarke,” Octavia says sheepishly. “I guess you… overheard that.”

 

“Yes, and I would like to know exactly what you’re talking about, because it’s news to me,” she says, feeling upset.

 

Octavia sighs. “I don’t know anything more than what you just heard me say. I’m sorry, I shouldn't be gossiping like this.”

 

“It’s fine,” Clarke says. “He’s your brother, I get it. I just… that’s not fair. That’s completely not fair, and I really hope she didn’t actually hold that against him.”

 

“Don’t worry about it Clarke, it’s seriously not your fault,” Octavia says. “I think she was just trying to make a point about his lack of devotion and you guys being so tight was just, like, an extra thing on top of the rest.”

 

Clarke shakes her head, hating this. “He didn’t say anything to me when we talked about it.”

 

“Probably because he feels like a jackass right now and didn’t want to drag you into it,” Octavia says. “Ugh. Breakups suck. He’s going to be okay, right?

 

This is a thing Octavia has started doing with Clarke, asking for her opinions on things about Bellamy. Clarke sees him more than she does, is Octavia’s reasoning.

 

“Yeah, he’ll be fine eventually,” Clarke says. “But he’s probably still feeling like shit right now about how things ended. I should go find him.”

 

“Good luck, he’s extra salty today!” Octavia calls out after her.

 

She finds Bellamy in Octavia’s room, saying goodnight to little Kira, who is being tucked in for some sleep by her dad so he and Anya can spend time with the grown-ups.

 

“She wanted to hear more about pilgrims before she went to sleep,” Bellamy says as he closes the door to give them some quiet, sounding proud of himself that at least one member of the audience liked his reading selection.

 

“That’s adorable,” Clarke says, and it is, especially the fact that a two-and-a-half-year-old can figure out what a secret nerd Bellamy is. It’s one of his more incongruous personality traits, or so she’d thought when she’d first discovered it. Now it’s just a normal part of who he is, when he cites seventeenth century literature or turns out to have almost encyclopedic knowledge of the Manhattan Project.

 

“Can we talk?” she continues.

 

“Sure,” he says, and he follows her out into the hallway and over to the stairwell that leads up to her room. It’s one of the more private places in the currently crowded house. She takes a seat on one of the stairs and he leans against the doorjamb at the bottom

 

“I’m sure you’re sick of talking about this,” Clarke says, “but I overheard Octavia and she said something about Jen being upset because of you going kayaking with me in the mornings, and I need to know if that’s true.”

 

He lets out a tired breath. “Look, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to worry.”

 

“So it’s true.”

 

“It’s not like it sounds,” he says. “She wasn’t accusing us of having a torrid affair or anything. She barely ever mentioned you the entire time we were together. I just always assumed she was totally fine with us being good friends. Honestly, I think she brought it up because she was going through a list of everything about me that pissed her off and that probably seemed like some low-hanging fruit to toss in there with the rest.”

 

Clarke’s shoulders slump. “Even if it was just one of many grievances I still feel terrible about it,” she says, and then she freezes. “You didn’t tell her about the kiss, did you?”

 

“Of course not,” Bellamy says after a beat, his voice quiet and his eyes serious. “I never told anyone about that. Did you?”

 

Clarke shakes her head, unable to break eye contact. “No.”

 

“So please don’t worry about it. And please don’t worry about this, either,” he implores. “This is just—you and me, Clarke, it has nothing to do with me and Jen. They’re completely separate things.”

 

“I know that,” Clarke says.

 

“Clarke, you’re…” he starts, and then trails off, his eyes clouding a bit as he searches for his words. “You’ve become one of my really good friends,” he continues. “We’re tight. And we’re kayaking partners now too, basically. I trust you with my life on the water. And that, combined with our friendship, I really value that.”

 

Clarke feels a warmth course through her veins at his words, feels the bond between them strengthen even more. Or rather, it’s already strengthened, she’s just recognizing it for what it is. “I value that too,” she says.

 

“Good. Because I want to keep kayaking with you. You say you want to step it up and start running some harder things, right?”

 

“Yeah,” she says, sitting up straighter, feeling the excitement in her veins.

 

“So let’s run them. Let’s do it. You make a list of the rivers you want to run, and we’ll make it happen.”

 

Clarke can’t keep the grin off of her face. “You think I’m ready?”

 

He looks at her like she’s crazy. “Uh, yeah? You know you just won the Green Race like three weeks ago, don’t you? You’re more than ready for some tougher action.”

 

“I know, but I wasn’t sure when would be a good time to start. The weather’s getting colder, the flows would need to be right…”

 

“That’s what the gauges are for. Things will probably be a bit low throughout the winter with things being frozen up higher in the mountains, but we’ll keep our eyes on the radar. All it takes is the right amount of rain in the right place.”

 

“You sound really motivated all of a sudden,” Clarke observes, and he does. Bellamy’s such a seasoned paddler, he doesn’t often talk about it with youthful excitement like some of his younger counterparts do. He’s usually just calm and collected, speaking from a place of experience. She hasn’t seen him buzz with this kind of energy when talking about kayaking maybe ever. It’s fascinating.

 

He slaps his hand lightly against the doorjamb. “I am. You should’ve seen me when I was younger, Clarke. From age thirteen to twenty-two, all I cared about was kayaking. The way you are, wanting to run the Green every day because you’re hungry for it? That was me the minute I bought my first car and could get down there myself. That’s still me. Paddling all fall, and knowing that you want to do these things, it’s kind of reminded me of that part of myself, brought some of it out again.”

 

Clarke is just staring at him, feeling his energy lining up with hers like two wavelengths coming together.

 

“So let’s do it,” she says.

 

“Let’s do it,” he says back. “Seriously. Tomorrow after breakfast, let’s sit down and make a list.”

 

“You staying the night?” she asks.

 

“Octavia insists. Besides, you know I’ve been dying to try out the couch since you guys moved in,” he says jokingly.

 

“I’m actually amazed you haven’t yet,” she says. “Although I guess you did just get your ass kicked to the curb, so that means you’ll probably be on our couch all the time now.”

 

His eyes widen in shock and for a moment she thinks she may have crossed the line with that joke, but then he bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that. To clarify, there was no cohabitation involved and therefore no curb for me to get kicked to, so your argument is invalid.”

 

“Forget about the curb,” Clarke says back. “You know what I mean.”

 

“Unfortunately I do. Seriously Clarke, I’m sorry you heard that through Octavia. You weren’t part of the problem.”

 

“How are you feeling in general?” she asks, realizing she hasn’t really asked him about this yet today, being mostly focused on her own involvement, which is really selfish of her. Her feelings actually matter the least in this situation.

 

Bellamy folds his arms across his chest, looking thoughtful. “I’m feeling… I don’t know, ready, I guess?”

 

“Ready?”

 

“Ready to just be past it, be myself again,” he elaborates. "I mean I'm sad, of course, but I'm also just ready. Remember that thing you said about finding yourself again after a breakup?”

 

“You remember what I said that night? God, I was acting like a crazy witch or something, practically performing post-heartbreak rituals on your lawn.”

 

“You seem fine now, so it must have worked out,” he says. “Apparently my lawn is a great place for witchcraft.”

 

She laughs and shakes her head at him. “Watch it, the three of us really could be a coven and you’re just asking for trouble.”

 

“Trust me, this is not the first time that’s crossed my mind,” he says. “Seriously though. What you said back then, as soon as Jen dumped me I thought about that. I lost sight of who I was because I was trying to be something I’m not. And it sucks to admit that. But I think getting out and running the hard stuff and just _embracing_ it all is going to be a good way to get back to just being me, to help me remember what I really care about.”

 

“What do you really care about?” she hears herself asking.

 

“A lot of things. But a big part of those things is being on the water with the people I love,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s the best feeling, you know?”

 

“I do,” she says, because she does. His words ring true, and she realizes right then and there that they really have grown to love each other, as friends. She’s filled with a rush of joy then, and she stands and hugs him to her, this hopeful Bellamy who has somehow moved her almost to tears with his words. He wraps his arms around her and they hold each other for a moment, long enough that she can identify his heartbeat. When they let go they’re both smiling, because it feels like they’ve just made some kind of pact, now that they’re really going to go for this kayaking plan.

 

“Wanna seal the deal with more pie?” he asks.

 

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replies.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you guys, the next chapter is going to have some FEELINGS, goddamit, some REAL LIVE ROMANTIC FEELINGS, and I CAN'T WAIT. 
> 
> Inspiration for the photo Octavia posted on Instagram: http://tacosandflowers.tumblr.com/post/118039990707/the-red-carpet-photo-blessing-we-received-today
> 
> The Fleetwood Mac song that is acceptable for breakup music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=462lDlULSBk
> 
> And the Fleetwood Mac song that is waaaaay too real for breakup music: https://vimeo.com/24880270
> 
> And last but not least, Clarke's turkey recipe: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/brined-herb-roasted-turkey-recipe.html


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. I hope you like words and feelings, because this chapter has a lot of both.

The morning after Thanksgiving, Clarke and Bellamy sit down and make a list of rivers they plan to paddle that they think have the baddest, most intense class V in the southeast. It looks like this:

 

C & B’s Southeastern Steep Creek To-Do List (aka the KICK IT UP A NOTCH List):

_Toxaway_

_Horsepasture_

_Linville_

_West Prong_

_The Bear_

_Raven Fork_

(“Did you cite Emeril Lagasse on a _kayaking list_?” Octavia asks them as Clarke tapes it to the fridge; Octavia rolls her eyes when Bellamy says yes without irony.)

 

The timing for starting isn’t ideal, because it’s winter, and they’re high enough in the mountains that ice and snow are a factor. So most everything on their list won’t actually be runnable until spring, when things start to melt and rainfall happens in large enough quantities. And even then, the flows have to be exactly right. Steep creeks are touchy like that, their runnability being dependent on a hard-to-nail-down mix of atmospheric pressure and luck. But that’s okay, because it gives them time to keep training and get fully prepared. The Green is still runnable most days in the winter, so after Thanksgiving they keep up their dawn patrol runs when the weather is cooperative.

 

It’s harder to get out in general, though, particularly because daylight is so limited, so Clarke starts going to the gym and working out at home, too.

 

“You are like, crazy committed to this shit, aren’t you?” Raven asks one day as she watches Clarke do pull-ups on a bar they’ve installed in their house.

 

“Gotta be,” Clarke says, pulling her chin over the bar one more time before letting go and shaking out her arms.

 

It’s becoming clear to everyone that Clarke is moving into a different level of kayaking than her housemates. Octavia runs the Green now, and Raven runs it too, when she’s home, but both of them are content to have the Green be the hardest thing they paddle for the time being. The rivers that Clarke wants to run are another level up, the kind of hairy steep-creeking that comes with a healthy dose of fear because the consequences are truly high if things go wrong—serious injury or death..

 

“I think it’s awesome,” Raven says, “even if you guys are crazy to run some of that shit.”

 

“I feel like I’m finally doing what I’ve always wanted to do with kayaking,” Clarke says. “I couldn’t do it before, for whatever reason, school or Finn or whatever, but now… now’s the time,” she says with a grin. “Southeastern steep creeks this winter and spring, and then next stop, California.”

 

“Your homeland!” Raven jokes.

 

“It is!” Clarke says. “You know I’ve been dying to run things in the Sierras since I was a kid.”

 

“I was your roommate in college, Clarke,” Raven says. “I know your sports DVD collection better than you because I suffered through it so many times, _especially_ the California kayaking videos.”

 

“You loved it,” Clarke says.

 

“Whatever. I’m just glad those things aren’t on constant replay in this house. God, the music alone was just unbearable.”

 

“We should put one on the next time Bellamy and Wick are over, just to embarrass them,” Clarke says with an evil glint in her eye.

 

“You’re a genius,” Raven replies with a matching glint.

 

While the list may be Clarke and Bellamy’s, for safety reasons they need a full crew of people to run the rivers with them. Luckily, Bellamy already has one pretty much in place, the same group of guys he’s been running the hard stuff with for years. Miller and Wick are his two closest paddling companions, besides Clarke, so those two are brought in on the plan as well.

 

“You’re saying you want to run all of those creeks in the next few months?” Wick asks over spaghetti one night, after Raven has finished thoroughly making fun of his appearance in _Cali Steep Creeks II_ (“Hey, all I see is that my hair still looks great a decade later,” was his response, although he was unable to hide his cringe at some of his less-than-stellar lines).

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Clarke says. “Are you in?”

 

“Fuck yeah I’m in,” he says. “Damn girl, you got crusty old Blake running all the hardcore classics again? I wouldn’t miss that shit for the world.”

 

“I’ve been busy,” Bellamy says over his pasta.

 

“Yeah yeah,” Wick says, “That’s what they all say when they slow down. I’m stoked for this, guys. Who else is in?”

 

“Miller for sure. Anya isn’t sure how much time she’ll have, but wants us to keep her posted on the Linville and West Prong. And we might get Marcus in for a few runs if he’s around,” Bellamy replies.

 

“Ah yes, Kaner,” Wick says. Marcus Kane is at least fifteen years older than most of them and is widely recognized as one of the most accomplished kayakers in town, as well as being one of the few people to find success in whitewater filmmaking. He’d taken a mentoring role with Bellamy and Miller when they were younger and had brought them on their first trip to California—hence the existence of _Cali Steep Creeks II_.

 

“Yeah, Kane’s in. Says he wouldn’t mind shooting some film on a few of the runs, too, so that might happen. I think as long as we have a solid crew of you, me, Clarke, and Miller, then we’re good, and if Kane or other people want in on a certain run then we can make it work.”

 

“Oh man, this is gonna be good,” Wick says, grinning over his food.

 

“Try not to break your boat like the last time you ran something scary,” Raven says drily. “I don’t feel like welding that shit back together again.”

 

“You love welding my boats, Reyes,” Wick says, waggling his eyebrows at her. Raven just rolls her eyes and smacks him lightly upside the head as she goes into the kitchen.

 

The first window of opportunity to run something on the list comes in early February, when the temperature rises and the rain comes, and as soon as they see the big whorl of the storm on the weather radar they get their gear ready. Kayakers tend to pride themselves on their amateur weather predicting skills and spend a lot of time looking at radar and river gauges.  

 

Bellamy calls Clarke late on a Thursday.

 

“Did you see the radar?” he asks.

 

“The guy on the radio talked about rain in the forecast, but I haven’t looked at it yet,” she replies.

 

“It’s pouring over in Tennessee,” he says. “If the storm system keeps moving in the direction it looks like it’s going, then West Prong is going to come in in the morning. The gauge is already going up steadily. Can you get tomorrow off work?”

 

“I’ve been banking my sick days for this,” Clarke says.

 

“I’ll check the gauge as soon as I wake up and call you if it’s a go,” he replies.

 

It is.

 

Bellamy picks Clarke up at the house around eight. She jumps into his truck, sets her DollyWood mug in the console next to his Stonehenge mug, and beams at him with excitement.

 

“I can’t believe I have this much energy this early,” she says. 

 

“We’re chasing rainfall,” he replies. “I feel it too.”

 

They pick up Miller at his place and then head west towards Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where the West Prong of the Little Pigeon is located. It’s a Tennessee classic, and something Clarke had always wanted to run when she lived in Knoxville but never got around to. They meet Wick at the take-out and head for the top. Wick insists that they blast AC/DC to get fired up and the guys reminisce about past runs. They love this run because it’s steep and pushy but still fun.

 

Clarke loves the damp mist in the air, the rain still dripping from the trees as the sun fights through the clouds. It’s perfect timing as far as the flow goes, and Clarke works to calm the butterflies in her stomach as they get ready and get started on the water.

 

“You nervous?” Bellamy asks her as they paddle towards the first drop.

 

Clarke shrugs. “Mostly just excited. I feel like we’ve been training so hard, there’s really not much else I can do. Just keep my head on straight, I guess.”

 

“You will,” he says, and she feels a rush emotion at his faith in her. She knows she can do it, but it feels nice that he does too. There’s something about someone else believing in you that has a calming effect.

 

The run goes well. They get out to scout a rapid called Dinosaur, but for the most part the run is non-stop, steep and rocky and _fun_. Clarke can’t believe the thrill of it. She gets pointers on how to run everything from her companions, who have all run this creek many times before, and she feels safe and comfortable out there with them. She loves the feeling of being on the water as part of this team. She feels like she belongs.

 

“Get the pen, Clarke,” Bellamy says that evening after supper, which the girls had invited him over for after he and Clarke got back from the river.

 

“What for?” she asks.

 

“To cross the first one off the list,” he says, pointing toward the fridge.

 

Her face lights up and she smiles with delight as she finds a pen and does exactly that.

 

It’s right around this moment, when he’s watching Clarke scratch a line through West Prong with a flourish while beaming at him, that Bellamy starts making a list of his own inside his head. It’s still in the early stages of development, and it’s still at the edges of his consciousness, but if it had a title it would be something like _List of Mounting Evidence That You Might Like Clarke as More than a Friend,_ and it would include things like _the way your stomach kinda flips over when she smiles at you like that, you fucking sap._

He’s able to push it into the back of his mind because she’s his friend, and his sister’s friend too—hell, they have so many friends in common, they’re basically part of the same weird, large family—and everybody knows that developing crushes on your friends is a terrible idea. It’s like rule number one in the book of friendship. Right?

 

C & B’s Southeastern Steep Creek To-Do List (aka the KICK IT UP A NOTCH List):

_Toxaway_

_Horsepasture_

_Linville_

_~~West Prong~~ _

_The Bear_

_Raven Fork_

 

 

The next time they cross a river off their list, Bellamy’s list gets slightly longer. The Horsepasture River is one of the more country paddling experiences in the southeast, which is saying a lot given that the entire southeast is the definition of country. This river is wider than the West Prong, but still steep, with some huge drops, and it’s also longer, clocking in at four and a half miles on the water followed by a three-mile hike out at the end. The hike is steep and goes through private farmland, meaning they have to be careful to avoid both cow pies and private landowners.

 

It’s the farthest Clarke has ever had to hike her boat, and Raven has helped her craft a backpack fixture that she can attach to the cockpit so she doesn’t have to carry it on one shoulder the whole time. Bellamy has one of these too, and he tells Clarke that it’s worth it to get used to carrying her boat like this if she ever wants to run some of the rivers out west that require long hikes in and out of the gorges where they’re located. Clarke’s face lights up at the thought of California and his stomach responds with a jump that reaches upwards towards his heart, maybe, and, well, moving on.

 

It had rained the night before, so by the time they get to the top of the trail they’re muddy as well as sweaty, and the sun is starting to set. They’re also starving. It’s been a long day.

 

“What do you guys say we hit up that old roadhouse along the highway for some grub?” Wick suggests as he wipes mud off his legs with a towel.

 

“Sounds good to me,” Miller replies.

 

“Me too!” Clarke calls out from behind Wick’s truck where she is changing out of her wet clothes in private.

 

“Hope they don’t care that we smell like livestock,” Bellamy says.

 

The roadhouse is crowded for a weeknight, but they are able to find a booth and squeeze in, ordering large meals and beers from the old plastic-coated menus.

 

“Good run today, boys,” Wick says, raising his bottle to meet everyone else’s.

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a boy,” Clarke says.

 

Wick chuckles. “I’ve seen you in a bikini, Griffin, I _know_ you’re not a boy,” he teases, and she swats at him. He raises his hands in defense. “But you’re one of the boys now, in spite of how stacked you are.”

 

“I… uh… thanks?” Clarke says with a pause, her cheeks flushing.

 

Miller rolls his eyes. “What he _means_ is that you run the shit with us, so you’re one of us.”

 

“Exactly,” Wick says. “Right, Blake?”

 

Bellamy is staring at a splotch of mud on Clarke’s cheek that she doesn’t realize is there. He’s doing this because a.) he sometimes catches himself staring at her and it’s disconcerting but it’s also a thing he does without realizing it and b.) focusing on the mud allows him to ignore the part of the conversation that has to do with Clarke’s breasts. Which, honestly, he has years of practice ignoring because Clarke is his friend, and he doesn’t want to be That Guy, and also when he does let himself think about that particular part of her anatomy, his brain goes fuzzy and things veer sharply into _thoughts that aren’t okay to have about your friend_ territory.

 

Both a.) and b.) land squarely on Bellamy’s list.

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, agreeing with Wick. He then takes a paper napkin, dips the corner in his water glass, and reaches across the table to wipe at the mud splotch. Doing this requires steadying Clarke’s face with one hand and wiping with the other, and she stares at him in surprise, her blue eyes filled with questions, until he pulls away and holds up the muddy napkin. “Was bothering me, sorry.”

 

“Did you just clean me off at the table like I’m a messy toddler?” Clarke asks, laughing.

 

Wick and Miller are laughing too.

 

“You’re such a dad, dude,” Wick says.

 

Bellamy shrugs. “I don’t want the patrons of this fine establishment to think we were raised in a barn.”

 

“Uh, have you looked around you? Because I’m pretty sure at least half of these people were literally raised in a barn,” Wick says.

 

It’s true. There is a heavy farmer presence in the roadhouse, and as their meals arrive they learn that the reason it’s so crowded is that there’s live music tonight. The crowd cheers as the curtains of a small stage peel back to reveal a country band that immediately launches into a cover of Alabama’s “Song of the South.” 

 

The dance floor fills with people, many of who have dressed up in their country finest for a night of music and dancing. The band plays a set of old time country hits and the two-stepping some of the couples are doing is textbook.

 

"I've always wanted to learn how to do that," Clarke says after her plate has been cleared, watching the dancers moving in a circle around the floor. "It's not really a 'thing' in California."

 

"You wanna try it?" Miller asks.

 

"You know how to two-step?" she asks.

 

"Miller's got moves for days," Wick says.

 

They head for the dance floor, looking slightly out of place in their jeans and hoodies, but the atmosphere is friendly and some of the other dancers cheer them on. Clarke pulls her sweatshirt over her head and tosses it to Bellamy, her hair settling down around her shoulders which are bare now given that she’s only wearing a cotton tank that somehow manages to be loose and cling to her curves at the same time. She's as dirty as the rest of them after a long day—tangled hair, no makeup—but she's beautiful. Bellamy’s heart is having trouble handling it. Put it on the list.

 

"She did great out there today,” Wick says as they watch Clarke laughing at Miller while he tries to instruct her. “Not that I ever doubted her, but she’s the real deal. And she’s hot as hell, too,” he continues, his eyes zeroing in on her breasts.

 

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" Bellamy asks, irritated at Wick for being a dog and at himself for also looking at her breasts, finally, and oh god.

 

"Hah, ask Raven that. Besides, girlfriend or not, I can still appreciate the aesthetics of other women."

 

Bellamy just rolls his eyes. Wick is head over heels for Raven and they all know it, but that doesn't stop him from still trying to come off as a ladies' man. 

 

"Tell me you don't agree," Wick says.

 

Bellamy gives him a look that indicates just how much he is _not_ into this conversation, which has little effect on Wick.

 

"Come _on_ , Blake."

 

"She's my friend," he growls. 

 

"Yeah, and it's okay to think your friends are hot. It doesn't mean you have to jump their bones or anything."

 

Bellamy loves Wick, he's known him for years, but he does not love when Wick insists on guy talk. He takes a long sip of his beer to help cope with the situation. 

 

Wick is staring at him now thoughtfully. "Although... When's the last time you got laid?"

 

"None of your fucking business," Bellamy replies. 

 

"You haven't fucked anyone since Jen, have you?" Wick asks in an excited voice that makes Bellamy want to smack him.

 

"I haven't exactly been running around going to bars and shit," he replies. Because Wick is correct, he hasn't gotten laid in a while, and it sucks, but he also hasn't really tried that hard to remedy the situation.

 

"Yeah, because you've been too busy running around doing stuff with Clarke."

 

Bellamy can tell the exact moment Wick comes up with what he surely thinks is an ingenious idea. 

 

"Dude," Wick says, looking over at Clarke as she moves around the dance floor with Miller, whose skills are indeed good enough to make up for Clarke's lack of two-stepping experience. "You ever think about hitting that?"

 

Ah yes. There it is. It’s a question Bellamy has been careful to avoid asking himself, let alone being asked by anyone else. He needs to nip this line of questioning in the bud.

 

"Like I said, she's my friend," he grinds out.

 

"So?" Wick replies. "You're both single now, have been for a while."

 

"Doesn't mean we have to sleep together."

 

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean you _don't_ have to sleep together, either."

 

"That makes no sense."

 

"It makes complete sense. I'm a fucking genius."

 

Bellamy just shakes his head and finishes his beer. 

 

Wick laughs at him. "Shit, Blake, looks like I hit a sore spot or something. If I were you, I would _definitely_ be—"

 

"Oh my god, will you please shut up?"

 

Clarke and Miller get back to the booth at that exact moment.

 

"What are you guys taking about?" Clarke asks after getting a load of their facial expressions.

 

"Baseball," Bellamy snaps.

 

"You know the season hasn't started yet, right?" Clarke replies.

 

Wick just bursts out laughing and shakes his head. He keeps laughing on and off to himself until he gets back to his truck. 

 

Bellamy knows Wick, knows this subject will come up again. He's not looking forward to it. 

 

C & B’s Southeastern Steep Creek To-Do List (aka the KICK IT UP A NOTCH List):

_Toxaway_

_~~Horsepasture~~ _

_Linville_

_~~West Prong~~ _

_The Bear_

_Raven Fork_

 

Clarke loves every minute of the Horsepasture, the intensity and the grit and the fun of it all, and she can’t wait for the next run on the list, which ends up being the Bear. It’s technically named Bear Creek, but people call it “the Bear” because it’s a beast to be reckoned with.

 

A side effect of running the creeks on their list is that Clarke has become addicted to the weather radar. She checks it all the time, to see if there’s any rain moving into the areas of any of the rivers on the list, and if there is anything, she can’t stop watching the radar and checking the gauges and seeing if anything spikes in a promising way.

 

So when she sees a storm system moving towards the Bear, she immediately texts Bellamy. When she doesn’t hear back, she calls him, and gets no answer. Which is odd, because he usually texts her right back, or picks up if she calls. She’s baffled and kind of irritated by it until she goes to her car on her lunch break and finds his phone sitting on her passenger seat. They’d done a Green run that morning—they’re still keeping up with that when they can, to stay conditioned—and he’d forgotten it after they ran shuttle.

 

She’s too excited about the Bear potentially running to wait until after work, so she decides to drive to Bellamy’s job site to deliver his phone and see if he interprets the radar the same way she does. She gets the address from Miller and realizes as she’s pulling in that she’s never been to the job site before. They’re building a house—Bellamy’s company specializes in custom homes and he works with a few architects in the area—and Clarke is immediately struck by how gorgeous it is. The people he’s building it for are wealthy, so the house is large, but it’s not quite fancy, with touches that make it fit into the forested surroundings of the development.

 

They’ve been working on the house for a while now, and are nearly done with it, just taking care of the finishing touches. She finds Bellamy around the back, swinging a hammer on some window trim. He’s in his oldest pair of Carhartts, which are covered in the mess of his trade, the drywall and the paint, the nails in the pockets, and they hug his body in a way that she appreciates. His grey t-shirt hugs his shoulders, too, the curves of which she knows well by now from seeing him pull his shirt off every time they go kayaking—which, _bless_. But there’s something about seeing him at work, seeing those muscles in action as he hammers the trim, that makes her pause for a moment and just watch him.

 

“Hey,” she says when he finishes hammering.

 

He spins around. “Clarke?” he asks, a surprised look on his face. “What are you doing here?”

 

She holds out his phone. “You left this in my car.”

 

“I’ve been looking for that thing all morning,” he replies, coming over to take it. “You drove all the way out here to bring it to me?”

 

She nods. “Look at the texts you missed.”

 

He unlocks his phone and reads through, his eyes widening. “Oh shit, really? It’s raining over there?”

 

“If it keeps going, the Bear will be in by tomorrow, don’t you think?” she asks.

 

“Let’s have a look,” he says.

 

He leads her into the house, where a work stereo is blasting Bruce Springsteen. She waves at Miller, who’s working on some inside trim, and at Murphy, who’s been a part of this work crew as well. Bellamy takes her to a rough bench they’ve hammered together out of scrap wood and they sit down so they can call up the radar on his phone.

 

Their shoulders touch as they wait for the data to load and when the swirling green blotch shows up right on top of the Georgia-Tennessee border their eyes meet and they just grin at each other. Clarke loves this feeling, the anticipation and the excitement, and she loves that she has someone to share it with. Well, there are others who share it too, but somehow, with Bellamy, it’s special. They’re in this together, have been since the start.

 

“Looks promising,” Bellamy says, leaning into her, and she leans right back. “Hey Miller!” he shouts over the Springsteen. “Want to run the Bear tomorrow?”

 

Miller turns down the music. “Seriously?”

 

“Radar’s looking just right,” Clarke says.

 

“Damn, we haven’t run the Bear in years,” he says. “I’m in.”

 

“Fucking kayakers,” Murphy mumbles.

 

It’s a long drive, requiring them to go all the way through Knoxville and Chattanooga, and Clarke finds herself swamped with memories of her time in med school as they go through her old stomping grounds.

 

“This is weird,” she says as she stares at the city skyline.

 

“Yeah?” Bellamy asks.

 

“Yeah. I haven’t really been back yet. It’s not that that I didn’t enjoy my time here, it’s just… things are so different now.”

 

“Different how?”

 

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know. When I was here, I was always working towards something, always aiming for the horizon, for what came after.”

 

They’re quiet for a moment, and then Bellamy says, “And now it _is_ after.”

 

Clarke looks at him, not even amazed that he can finish her thoughts, because that’s the kind of friends they are now.

 

“Exactly,” she says. “And after is good.”

 

The river is raging when they get there, a level that Bellamy refers to as “the high side of good.” There’s a nervous energy amongst the crew, and Clarke’s not sure what it is until Miller puts it into words.

 

“This scared the shit out of me last time and you’re telling me there’s even more water in it this time?” he asks as they look at the first drop.

 

This is also the first time that Marcus Kane has joined their group. Bellamy had called him up the night before and made the offer, as he’d expressed interest a few months back, and this particular run had been intriguing enough that he wanted to join.

 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Miller?” Kane asks as he checks his camera equipment.

 

Miller’s eyes widen. Kane is something of a legend, having moved to the southeast over twenty years before from Scotland, and he had been involved in numerous first descents before any of the rest of them ever sat in a kayak. He also has a slightly stern demeanor which he uses to keep the riff raff in check, and to give his friends a hard time. Not that Miller is riff raff, but he did learn a lot about kayaking from Kane, and even though Kane is joking, when the teacher is questioning the student’s readiness it’s a bit nerve-wracking.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Miller says. “But you do know the list of injuries people have incurred on Stairway to Heaven, right? I’m talking compressed vertabrae, skull fractures, broken ribs, broken _elbows_ …”

 

“That’s why we have a doctor with us,” Bellamy says, gesturing to Clarke.

 

“Ah yes, Doctor Griffin,” Kane says. “How are _you_ feeling about today’s descent? If I recall correctly, this is your first time running the Bear.”

 

Clarke had been feeling ready until Miller started getting nervous, and now she finds that she’s nervous too, but she’s not going to tell that to Marcus Kane.

 

“I’m feeling like we should already be on the water,” she says matter-of-factly and begins to hike her boat down to the eddy. Better to just get it done instead of standing around all day worrying.

 

“Don’t let them shake you up,” Bellamy says quietly as they start the descent, the two of them paddling closely together.

 

“I’m not,” she replies. She looks at him and they hold eye contact for a moment, and her nerves relax slightly because _they’ve got this_. He reaches over to squeeze her shoulder, and then it’s time for the first big rapid and they nod at each other, their signal of understanding.

 

The water is pushy, but once they start paddling the nerves meld with the adrenaline and then with the joy of successfully running each drop. Wick insists on singing the entire way down, alternating between an off-key rendition of “Stairway to Heaven” and an off-key rendition of “Knocking on Heaven’s Door,” which is the name of the rapid that leads into Stairway.

 

“Mama take this badge from me,” Wick croons in his Axl Rose voice for the umpteenth time as Clarke pulls into the eddy above Knocking on Heaven’s Door next to him. “I can’t use it anymore.”

 

“Nobody would ever give you a badge in the first place, Wick,” Clarke says.

 

“Awww, come on, Clarkey,” he says. “I practically exude authority.”

 

“No you don’t. And don’t call me Clarkey,” she says, but she’s smiling.

 

They scout Stairway and it looks good, although Clarke can’t help but remember Miller’s list of injuries and hopes that she neither gets hurt nor has to treat anyone else as a result of this drop. She has a well-stocked med kit in her boat, but she hasn’t had to use it to treat anything too substantial on the water yet and she hopes it stays that way.

 

Kane goes first so he can set the camera up at the bottom, and Clarke watches him run it. The drop is a huge slide, which means boats get bounced around a lot by the slab of rock beneath the water and the trickiest part is remaining upright. Kane lands at the bottom and everyone else heads back to get ready.

 

Instead of Wick’s voice, Clarke hears Bob Dylan singing “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” in her mind as she peels out and heads for the entrance rapid of that very name. The water rushes around her as she slots in above Stairway and then she’s gaining momentum as she launches onto the slide. Her boat gets kicked from side to side as she bounces up and over the water where it pillows off of the rock, and she braces with her paddle and keeps her body forward to stay upright and in control. When she launches off the last fifteen-foot drop into the pool at the bottom, her heart soars with victory.

 

She can’t keep the smile off her face as she glides into the eddy. Kane smiles slightly and nods, and she knows she’s proven herself to him. She finds that it doesn’t really matter, that’s not what she cares about. She doesn’t need to prove herself to anyone, hasn’t for a while now. Her friends believe in her. She looks over at Bellamy, who is grinning at her proudly. She paddles over until she’s next to him, sets down her paddle, and pulls him in for a hug. She’s overjoyed at the moment, and she wants him to feel it too. She knows he does when his arms go around her and they hug each other tightly.

 

Their helmets click against each other and she whispers, “I just ran Stairway to Heaven,” in his ear.

 

They pull back and he’s still grinning, and she is suddenly aware of the dimples in his cheek and his chin, and she just treasures him, so much.

 

“Yeah you did,” he says. “And you fucking styled it.”

 

Clarke looks around herself in wonder and then back at Bellamy. “I just love kayaking. So much.”

 

“Me too,” he replies. “Me too.”

 

C & B’s Southeastern Steep Creek To-Do List (aka the KICK IT UP A NOTCH List):

_Toxaway_

_~~Horsepasture~~ _

_Linville_

_~~West Prong~~ _

_~~The Bear~~ _

_Raven Fork_

 

Clarke doesn’t have to use the med kit on the Bear, but she does have to use it on the Toxaway.

 

The Toxaway is one of the craziest creeks in the southeast in terms of scale and epic rapid length. The way the water runs over the granite is comparable to the rivers of the high Sierras in California, which is why a lot of paddlers who run the Toxaway are also the ones who road trip out west in the summer to catch the snowmelt. After years of dreaming about it, Clarke is finally one of those paddlers.

 

She’s run some big rapids lately, but the drops on the Toxaway blow her mind. She loves it, loves the crazy energy, the feeling of being bounced around like a pinball in places, the glide of the water rushing over the slick rock. Energizer is her favourite until they get to the last drop, Wintergreen, and that is the most amazing rapid she’s ever run, she’s sure, screaming with fierce accomplishment at the bottom.

 

She watches with Wick as Miller runs it after her, laughing as she sees how high his boat gets bounced in places, barely able to believe that had just been her. He’s breathing heavily when he pulls into the eddy, shaking his head.

  
“That one fucking gets me every time,” he says. “You’re this close to getting flipped the whole way, it’s like a miracle when you finish with your head still attached.”

 

Clarke is nodding in agreement as they turn to watch Bellamy come down the drop. He’s getting bounced all over the place too, and their eyes widen as the last big kicker tosses him up and over to the left. He leans out to brace with his paddle but the impact hits his arm instead. He manages to stay upright, but barely, and when he lands at the bottom he can barely paddle with the arm that took the hit.

 

“Bellamy!” Clarke cries out as he reaches the eddy. She’s by his side in a second, reaching for his arm.

 

“I’m okay,” he says. “I’m okay.”

 

“You can barely paddle,” she says.

 

“Just—just give me a second, I’ll be fine. Fuck,” he says, wincing. “We’re at the end, anyway.”

 

She sighs. She deals with injured people every day, but this is the first time she’s dealt with an injured Bellamy. Which is impressive, actually, given the dangerous nature of their sport, but here they are now.

 

It turns out injured Bellamy is of the “I’m fine, shake it off,” variety. Which isn’t surprising, given his nature, but Clarke knows this is going to be a challenge, both as a doctor and as his friend.

 

He flexes his arm to show everyone that he’s fine, but Clarke is skeptical.

 

“Are you sure?” she asks.

 

He looks at her gruffly, and she knows he’s in pain, but he won’t admit it. “Let’s just get to the takeout, okay?”

 

He powers through it, and Clarke worries the whole way, but it’s not far to the spot where they have to get out and hike their boats three and a half miles up to the truck. Once there, he tries to quickly get out and get a start on the hike, but Clarke won’t allow it, especially when she sees him wince again as he tries to do something with his arm.

 

“Bellamy, I need to look at your arm,” she says.

 

He sighs. “I’m—“

 

“Fine, I know. But please, as a medical professional, I can’t see you make that face and not check you out. Will you let me just check and make sure you’re okay?”

 

He looks at her like he wants to challenge her, but then his shoulders slump and he gives in.

 

“Okay,” he says.

 

“Can you take your dry-top off?” she asks.

 

“Yeah,” he says, and that’s when she notices that the fabric of the top is ripped. He pulls it up and over his head, and there’s blood running down his arm, and that’s when she knows he’s not fine.

 

She can handle blood, but the sight of it on Bellamy makes the bottom of her stomach drop out. She steels herself and walks over to touch his arm gingerly. The blood is coming through the thin wool of his base layer.

 

“Can I push this up?” she asks, looking into his eyes.

 

He blinks and nods, and she notes the drops of water caught in his eyelashes, the freckles across his nose and cheeks, and the depth of how much she cares for him is staggering, all of a sudden. She carefully slides the fabric up until it’s above his elbow and the gash on his forearm is visible. It’s about an inch and a half long and relatively narrow, which means it was likely caused by a sharp rock. This is good, because a more blunt injury would be more difficult to treat. She tells Bellamy this, and he nods, and she asks Miller to get her med kit from her boat.

 

“I’m going to have to stitch you up before we hike out of here,” she says. “The physical exertion and movement of the hike would agitate the wound and make it worse if it’s not held together. Are you okay with that?”

 

Bellamy surprises her by smiling and pulling his base layer the rest of the way off. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

 

Bellamy’s arm is killing him, but he can handle it, he knows. He’s had stitches before, although never actually on the side of a river, like this. He’s still rattled from the drop. He was sure he was going to flip over and get completely fucked up, so when he made it out of there upright and with just an arm injury, he’d considered it a win.

 

And now Clarke is getting ready to stitch him up. He’s seen her in doctor mode before, when friends have needed minor medical attention. He’d watched her pop a kid’s shoulder back in on the Green just the other week. But he’s never been treated by Clarke before, and his stomach is tingling in a way that has nothing to do with the pain in his arm or the adrenaline of the river.

 

Clarke takes off her helmet and her life jacket and opens the dry bag containing her med kit. She pulls on a pair of rubber gloves and prepares the supplies she needs. She flips Bellamy’s boat over and gestures for him to sit on it before she kneels down next to him.

 

“I’m going to clean the cut first, okay?” she says, and her voice is soft, soothing, and he knows, suddenly, just how good at her job she is.

 

“Okay,” he breathes, unable to find his voice, because he knows the zing of the alcohol is coming and sure enough there it is, and he’s gritting his teeth against the pain.

 

She works quickly and quietly, and soon she’s prepping the needle and thread, her gloved fingers curling against his arm as she holds it gently.

 

“Sorry if this hurts,” she says.

 

He nods, to let her know she can go ahead, and she looks down at the wound and begins to stitch. He watches her hands as she works and then lets his eyes travel upward to her face, which is wearing an expression of calm focus. He’s amazed by her, really, that she is capable of so much. That she can run massive whitewater rapids and then stitch together human skin within the space of an hour. And that both of these things are a part of who she is. It’s like he’s seeing her in this element for the first time, and an entire other world of Clarke Griffin has been revealed to him.

 

She doesn’t waver until she’s tied the thread and clipped it off, and she finally meets his gaze. “All stitched up,” she says, squeezing his forearm before letting go to work on cleaning him up and fixing a bandage in place that will keep it protected on the hike out.

 

It turns out that everything about getting stitched up by Clarke goes on Bellamy’s list, which he has re-named _An Increasingly Obvious List of Mounting Evidence of Your More-than-Friendly Feelings for Your Very Good Friend Clarke, You Dumbass_. You’d think that someone putting you through the pain of having a needle and thread passed through your skin would make you want to have less to do with that person than more. But after Clarke is finished and he’s all patched up, he wants nothing more than for her to hold him, to keep taking care of him, to whisper in his ear that it’s going to be okay.

 

“Do you want something for the pain?” she asks before she puts the med kit away and re-packs her boat to prepare for the hike out.

 

“What do you have in there?” he asks.

 

“Let’s just say being a doctor means the stuff in my kit is way more fun than Advil,” she replies with a gleam in her eye.

 

Bellamy wants to say he can tough it out, but his arm is throbbing, and the impending hike with a kayak on his back isn’t going to help that feeling, he’s guessing. So he takes what Clarke offers him and washes it down with water, and hopes for the best.

 

The pain fades after a while, but his head grows increasingly fuzzy and by the time they reach his truck he’s exhausted and slightly dizzy. He sways a bit after tossing his kayak on the ground, and Clarke’s hand is on his shoulder, steadying him.

 

“I’ll drive,” she says, and he leans into her with relief.

 

“Thanks Clarke,” he says. “For everything.”

 

She takes charge, and really she’s been in charge the whole time, Bellamy thinks as he leans his cheek against the inside of the truck door as they drive away, his eyes drooping. She may have less experience than the rest of them, but she’s proven over the last few months just how level-headed she is in intense situations, and he knows that they’re kidding themselves if they don’t recognize that she’s the one who’s going to keep it together when things go south.

 

Bellamy dozes as they drive Wick back to his truck and then head back to Arkville, dropping Miller off at his place before heading to Bellamy’s. He wakes up as Clarke turns off the engine and she’s out of the cab and getting their gear organized before he can protest. He finds her hanging both of their sets of wet gear in his garage.

 

“You don’t have a car to get home,” he says, and the words feel funny coming out of his mouth, thanks to the painkiller.

 

“I’ll stay in Octavia’s old room,” she says. “I already called her. She’s going to come and get me tomorrow.”

 

“She’s not going to get you tonight?” he asks.

 

“It’s late. She doesn’t need to drive all the way out here. Just… let me take care of you,” she says.

 

Bellamy’s fuzzy head wonders if she’d read his mind earlier, when he’d longed for exactly that. He allows himself to wonder for a moment what it would be like if he were to lay his head down in her lap so she could run her fingers through his hair. He knows what her fingers feel like against his scalp, because right around this time last year she’d kissed him on his front lawn, and fuzzy-headed Bellamy’s mind has his eyes falling to her mouth and wondering, just wondering if it might not be a totally crazy idea to try it again.

 

“Okay,” he says, his voice coming out hoarse, and he clears his throat and his brain before he does anything stupid.

 

He helps Clarke get everything into the garage and then follows her inside, where she finds a frozen pizza and turns on the oven. He realizes he’s starving, because they hadn’t stopped to eat on the way home. She sits him down on the couch with a glass of water and turns on the tail end of the Braves game (baseball season has started, finally). They eat and watch the end of the game, and then she leads him off to his bedroom.

 

She’s yanking back the covers and it makes him laugh because Clarke’s in his bedroom, and his list is growing longer and longer, and he hasn’t forgotten Wick’s question about whether he’d ever thought about “hitting that”—which, really, Clarke’s not an _object_ , Wick, _come on_ —and here she is, tucking him into bed, and he knows she’s just doing it because she’s babying him, and it has nothing to do with hitting any person or thing.

 

“What’s so funny?” she asks, turning to give him a questioning look.

 

“You’re babying me,” he says, and begins to tug his shirt over his head, because he’s so tired, and his bed is so comfortable-looking.

 

She shrugs. “I sewed you back together today. I’m allowed to baby you.”

 

“Are you this attentive with all of your patients?” he asks.

 

She smirks. “Only the stubborn ones.”

 

She checks on him again before she goes to bed, and he sees that she’s changed into some of Octavia’s old pajamas. He’s already stretched out on the bed and pulled the covers up and over himself, but he reaches out and pats the empty part of the mattress and indicates that she should sit, because he doesn’t want to go to sleep yet, but his bed is also _really_ comfortable and he doesn't want to move.

 

She sits, the mattress dipping with her weight, and leans back against the headboard. “Today was kind of crazy,” she says.

 

He nods. “It was.”

 

“I thought you were going to flip. So did Miller.”

 

“Good thing I didn’t,” he says.

 

“Good thing you didn’t.”

 

“So how long am I out for?” he asks.

 

Clarke thinks it over. “I’ll take your stitches out in a week, and after that you’ll still want to be careful not to agitate it. You’ve also got some bruising, so you’ll want to make sure you take good care of your arm, and yourself in general, to promote healing. You’ll need to take some time off from kayaking.”

 

He swears under his breath. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

 

“It’ll be fine. The rivers aren’t going anywhere,” she says.

 

“But what if the Linville or Raven Fork run while I’m out of commission? Then we’ll miss it,” he says, and if he sounds pretty mopey, he doesn’t care.

 

“They’ll run again,” Clarke reassures him.

 

“I want them to run for you, Clarke,” he says.

 

“They will,” she replies with a laugh. “Bellamy, really, don’t worry about it.”

 

He sighs and settles against his pillow a little more. “You’re the best, you know that?”

 

She laughs again. “Well… thank you?”

 

“No, seriously, you are. The best. You ran the fucking _Toxaway_ today, do you realize that?”

 

“I do. I was there.”

 

“No, you don’t get it. Not just anybody can run the Toxaway. You ran the Toxaway, and then you fixed my broken ass when I fucked it up.”

 

“It was a freak bounce, Bellamy. It could have been any of us.”

 

“But it was me, and you fixed me.” He reaches out then and grabs her hand, and suddenly he’s not afraid to touch her. He’s been holding back from touching her, as the list in his head grows longer, and it’s stupid. He slides his hand around hers and then slides his other hand around her wrist, and holds on, his fingers finding her pulse.

 

“You scared me,” she says softly, curling her fingers against his palm. “Especially when I saw the blood under your dry top.”

 

“But you see blood every day,” he says.

 

“Not your blood,” she replies.

 

“I’m glad we started kayaking together,” he says, looking up at her.

 

“Me too,” she says, and he knows that she knows he’s pretty out of it, and loves that she is humouring his conversation anyway.

 

“I feel safe with you,” he says, his eyes sliding shut as he loses the battle to keep them open. He wants to hold Clarke’s hand and talk to her all night, but sleep is pulling him away.

 

“I feel safe with you, too,” she whispers.

 

“Nobody ever… I haven’t… It’s been a really long time since someone made me feel safe,” he says, and he tries and fails to stifle a yawn.

 

Clarke is quiet for a moment, and then she’s sliding her hand so she can squeeze his. “That’s because you’ve been busy taking care of Octavia and everyone else. And now you have me. And you need to sleep, Bellamy. You’re already halfway there.”

 

She pulls her hand away and gets up, and then she leans over and kisses his forehead and says, “Goodnight.”

 

She’s gone before he can ask her to stay.

 

Something shifts between them after that. Clarke isn’t quite sure what it is. She knows that Bellamy had been under the influence of the painkiller she’d given him when he’d held her hand and told her she made him feel safe, but she can’t shake the feeling of it, the warmth that had flooded through her, reminding her of the moment earlier in the day when she’d been slightly blindsided by her feelings.

 

The trouble is, she can’t sort them out. Her love for him as a friend is at the core of it, she knows, but there’s something else there, something connected to the fear that had spiked through her body when she’d seen him get hurt and then seen his blood, that she’d shoved back inside when she had to focus and stitch him up. And then when he’d been so sweet as he was falling asleep, she’d felt it again, especially as he looked so peaceful with his eyes closed and his hair splayed against the pillow, sparking a crazy urge on her part to curl right up next to him and go to sleep.

 

She’d told him he made her feel safe, too, and she’d meant it. But it’s more than safety. Of course they feel safe with each other, working with each other in high-risk situations, and they’d had a reminder that day of just how dangerous it could be. But their connection goes beyond safety. Her friendship with him is like nothing she’s experienced with anyone else, and she feels like they’ve entered some kind of new stage of closeness that she can’t categorize.

 

Their closeness does not go unnoticed. Raven is the first one to give her shit about it.

 

“Have you and Bellamy ever, you know, fucked?” she asks Clarke one night after they’ve been drinking wine on the back deck. They’ve had a housemates dinner, and Octavia is inside getting something from the kitchen. They’re having grapes for dessert.

 

“What?” Clarke asks. “No.”

 

“No?”

 

“Of course not. When would we have slept together?”

 

“Gee, I don’t know, some time during the million hours a week you’ve been spending together since you moved here?”

 

Clarke laughs and prays her face isn’t entirely beet red from embarrassment, even though she’s not totally surprised by this. “We are not sleeping together. We’re just friends. We’re kayaking partners. Where is this even coming from?”

 

“Just something Wick said,” Raven replies.

 

“I spend almost as much time with Wick as I do with Bellamy, and you’re not asking me if I’m sleeping with him.”

 

“Honey, you _know_ how pussywhipped I’ve got that boy, I don’t have to ask. And besides, it’s not just me who’s curious.”

 

“What do you mean it’s not just you?” Clarke asks, increasingly alarmed by the direction this conversation is heading.

 

“What’s not just you?” Octavia asks as she returns to the deck with more wine.

 

“I’m not the only one who’s asking if Clarke and Bellamy are sleeping together,” Raven says.

 

“Oh my god, people ask me that all the time!” Octavia says, eagerly joining the conversation.

 

“What?” Clarke asks, horrified. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“What would I say?” Octavia asks. “’Hey Clarke, another chick at a party asked me if you’re dating my brother, is it true?’”

 

“Are you asking me that now?”

 

Octavia scoffs. “I know it’s not true. You’re both way too sexually frustrated for that to be true. Seriously, when _is_ the last time you got laid, Clarke?”

 

“I’ve been busy!” Clarke protests.

 

“Yeah, busy kayaking constantly with my brother, which is why everyone keeps asking me about you guys!”

 

Clarke sighs. “Well, you’re right about one thing. I haven’t gotten laid in a while. Since Lexa.”

 

“Why not?” Raven asks. “You’re hot shit in this town, Clarke. You could have your pick of any of the kayaker bros and half the girls too.”

 

Clarke shakes her head. “You’re exaggerating. And besides, it’s… I don’t know. There’s just not anyone that’s really caught my eye lately.”

 

“I could totally set you up with one of Lincoln’s climbing buddies,” Octavia says. “There’s a whole world of people outside of our kayaking circle for you to explore.”

 

Octavia has been with Lincoln now for almost six months, and has gotten to know the climbing community pretty well through him. She climbed at the gym with him all winter and now that spring has arrived, she’s been on the rocks more than she’s been on the water. (“I don’t need to run that death-defying shit you guys are crazy for these days,” she claims, although she will go to the Green with them on weekends sometimes).

 

“Your other option is to fuck Bellamy,” Raven says.

 

Clarke throws a grape at her. They laugh, and Clarke eventually agrees to let Octavia set her up. But she can’t quite get Raven’s words out of the back of her mind.

 

C & B’s Southeastern Steep Creek To-Do List (aka the KICK IT UP A NOTCH List):

_~~Toxaway~~ _

_~~Horsepasture~~ _

_Linville_

_~~West Prong~~ _

_~~The Bear~~ _

_Raven Fork_

 

 

By the time the Linville runs, Bellamy knows how screwed he is. The title of his list has changed yet again, to _Here’s the Giant Pile of Evidence that You have a Massive Crush on Clarke and It’s a Miracle Nobody has Figured This Out Yet,_ in the wake of his injury on the Toxaway and the subsequent caretaking at her hands. Every time he thinks about her now, his stomach leaps, and he feels like a schoolkid with a crush until the leap is followed by the clench of his heart that says _these are some grownup feelings you’re going to have to deal with eventually, you asshole_.  

 

In addition to admitting this to himself, he feels like something between them has changed and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He has to take two weeks off of kayaking after his injury, so part of it might be the change in routine. He doesn’t see her as much as he’s used to. And he misses her. He sees her at the house when he goes over for dinner, but that’s it. He misses talking to her in the mornings when they’re running shuttle, misses being with her on the water. He thinks about the softness of her skin and the brightness of her smile. He catches himself thinking about what she looks like naked and it dawns on him, finally, that the fantasy he envisions when he’s jerking off is really just her, and has been for _a while_. He has an overwhelming, undefined need for her that goes well beyond the bounds of friendship, and he has no idea what to do about it.

 

The Linville is longer than any river they’ve run so far by a long shot. They plan to do it as an overnighter, meaning that they’ll pack their boats with camping gear and spend the night halfway down the river, and then paddle the second half the next day. Bellamy knows Clarke has been looking forward to this, her first overnighter, because she wants to do overnight trips in California. That’s been coming up more and more in both of their minds lately, he knows.

 

Kane joins them again, and so does Anya, who finally found time do a run with them. It runs on a weekend with beautiful weather, which is perfect. Everyone is looking forward to camping out under the stars, including Bellamy, although he is feeling a combination of both thrilled and nervous at the prospect of sleeping under the stars with Clarke. He knows this is silly, because she’d spent the night in his house recently, and he’d slept on the pull-out couch at their place multiple times—basically, sleeping in the vicinity of Clarke is nothing new—but for some reason, this feels different.

 

The scenery on the river is incredibly gorgeous, and it has a much more leisurely pace than the Toxaway. This isn’t to say it isn’t challenging—it has plenty of class V—it’s just that the rapids are more spread out. The sun is shining, and they take their time, with Marcus setting up his camera at Babel Tower, Death Penalty, Cave Falls, and Cathedral Falls.

 

They set up camp around sunset and eat dinner around the fire. Bellamy is watching Clarke laugh at something Wick says and wondering just what he’s done to deserve the exquisite torture of falling for his friend when Anya makes the torture worse.

 

“How did your date go the other night, Clarke?” she asks.

 

Bellamy wants to throw up his dinner.

 

“Oh,” Clarke says. “It was fine. Good, I guess.”

 

“Who are you going on dates with?” Wick asks, his gaze flashing to Bellamy briefly with a questioning look before returning to Clarke.

 

“Octavia hooked her up with a climber dude who happens to also be a doctor,” Anya explains.

 

Bellamy makes a mental note to kill his sister when they get off the river. Sure, it’s not like he has any kind of actual claim on Clarke, but could she at least maybe run this shit by him first?

 

“Fancy,” Wick says. “Tell us more.”

 

Luckily for Bellamy, Clarke doesn’t seem too keen on talking about it. “He was nice, it was nice. Maybe it’ll go somewhere, maybe it won’t, I don’t know. Anya, I want to hear more about the trip you guys are planning to Costa Rica.”

 

She seeks him out later, when everyone else is getting ready for bed and he’s wandered off a ways to find a rock overlooking the river. He has his bag with him and he’s considering sleeping out here, away from the fire, away from the group. He wants to be alone because he’s grumpy, and he’s grumpy because he’s jealous of this faceless climber doctor his sister had set Clarke up with, and it’s irrational, and he doesn’t care.  

 

She sits next to him on the rock and says, “Hey.”

 

He feels a rush of happiness at her presence chipping away at his grumpiness, and also a slight fear that he’ll say or do something stupid, because good god, he just likes her so much it hurts. It actually, physically hurts.

 

“Hey,” he says back, holding all of it inside.

 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she says.

 

“I know,” he says. “Not kayaking all the time will do that.”

 

“How’s your arm?” she asks.

 

“It’s good,” he says. “All healed up, thanks to you.”

 

She smiles. “I’m just glad you took care of it. I was fairly certain you were going paddle on it too soon and I’d be stitching you up again.”

 

“Well, since I really only paddle with you anymore, and you wouldn’t have let me get on the water in the first place, I didn’t have the chance.”

 

“Good point.”

 

They fall silent for a while, and then he can’t hold back any longer.

 

“So, Octavia set you up with someone?” he asks, trying to sound casual and cringing inwardly at the way his words come out.

 

Clarke chuckles. “Yeah, she and Raven were giving me shit. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid.”

 

“Did you—this guy—“ Bellamy finds he’s having trouble forming sentences, that’s how little he wants to think about the subject.

 

“I didn’t sleep with him,” she says. “He was nice, though. We might go out again. I’m not sure yet.”

 

Bellamy clenches the hand on the side of his body Clarke can’t see into a fist.

 

“What about you?” she asks. “Seeing anyone lately?”

 

Bellamy just looks at her. “I’m pretty sure you would have heard about it already if there was anything like that going on in my life.”

 

Clarke shrugs. “I know. It’s just… this is the first time we’ve paddled together since you got hurt, it feels like too long since we’ve caught up.”

 

Bellamy doesn’t know what to say to that. This conversation is surreal, because the real reason he hasn’t been seeing anyone is that the only person he actually wants to see is Clarke. And he sees her all the time, just not in _that_ _way_.

 

“You know, apparently some people are speculating about whether or not you and I are sleeping together,” she says.

 

If Bellamy had something to choke on, he would, but his mouth is empty, so instead he starts coughing and awkwardly saying, “I’m sorry, what?”

 

She looks at him with a tired smile. “I think it’s hard for some people to accept the fact that a man and a woman can be close friends and not have it be, like, a sexual thing.”

 

 _If only you knew how much I want this to be, like, a sexual thing_ he thinks to himself, and then another voice inside his head says, _You could, you know, tell her that,_ which, no. Not happening. Because she clearly thinks this is a friendship, and a friendship only.

 

“People are idiots,” he says.

 

 _You’re an idiot,_ his internal monologue tells him.

 

“We’ve been friends for years, and nobody got weird about it before,” she says, and he can hear her attempting to rationalize things, which is such a Clarke thing to do. “I mean, I guess we were seeing other people for most of that time, but still. They don’t understand.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if they understand,” he says, kind of wishing the rock would swallow him up, and kind of wanting to keep talking with her about this all night.

 

“Exactly. What you and I have, it’s more than friendship,” she says.

 

Bellamy’s heart stops.

 

“What we do out here, when we’re on the water together… I’ve never had something like it with anyone before. I don’t think I could have it with anyone else. It’s like the way we see things, the way we do things, it just… works. We have our ways of doing them individually but when we do it together, it’s better. It’s more. And it’s been like that with you since I first met you, really.”

 

He wants to pull her to him and kiss her hair and tell her that she’s right—she’s so right that she doesn’t even know how right she actually is, really—and then he wants to kiss her _everywhere_ , but again, _not an option_.

 

So he goes for humor instead and says, “You thought I was a jackass when you first met me.”

 

Clarke laughs, and the tension of the moment breaks, his heart feeling slight relief even as he wishes he could bottle that laughter and drink it with his morning coffee every day.

 

“I did, but—this is going to sound weird, but that day on the Green, after I ran Gorilla the first time, you looked at me with this kind of respect that just went straight to my gut. And I didn’t fully realize it until I saw you again later, but I knew, in that moment, that we had the potential to be something to each other. And now we are.”

 

Bellamy wants to cry, because she’s right, he’d felt it too, and here they are, and, well, when it comes down to it, he’s too scared to tell her how he really feels. Because he loves this connection they have, and there’s always the risk that, if he tells her, she’ll tell him she doesn’t feel the same way, that she’ll never see him like that. Or worse, if he tells her, and something happens between them, and they fuck it up, then they’d lose it all. There would be no going back to this. Would it be worth it, to have Clarke for a time, only to lose everything if it didn’t work out? He doesn’t know. It’s going to take a while to solve this puzzle.

 

He lets out a deep breath. “Here we are.”

 

“We’re almost done with the list,” she says.

 

He counts in his head. “You’re right. After this, only the Raven Fork left.”

 

“The scariest one of all,” Clarke murmurs. “Which is appropriate, given that it shares a name with Raven Reyes.”

 

Bellamy chuckles, happy to be talking about whitewater and not feelings. “It’s been a rainy spring so far. I bet we’ll be running it sooner rather than later.”

 

 _And then what?_ he thinks, as it occurs to him that the way they’ve been paddling can’t go on forever because the list is finite.

 

“And then we go to California,” Clarke says, as if she’s read the question in his mind.

 

“Yeah?” he asks.

 

“I mean, it’s the logical next step,” she says, her smile widening.

 

“It is,” he replies, and he can’t help but smile too.

 

“I’ve got vacation time I can take. We just have to watch the temperatures in the Sierras and wait for the snowmelt to hit the right levels, right?”

 

He nods. “That’s how we usually do it. Snowpack and weather so far are making it look like late June or early July is when the Middle Kings will run.”

 

Clarke entire face brightens in the moonlight. “You think we should do the Middle Kings?”

 

He smiles knowingly. “A little bird told me years ago that my stellar performance in _Cali Steep Creeks II_ made her dream of running the Middle Kings someday. And now that the little bird runs the shit better than everyone else—except me, of course—I think we should aim to run it this summer.”

 

Clarke is practically bouncing where she’s sitting. “Oh my god, yes. Okay. Yes. That’s what I was hoping you would say, but I wasn’t sure if you thought we should do something less intense first, as like a warm-up or something.”

 

“The window of time to run it will be pretty narrow. We should plan for Middle Kings, and then while we’re out there, we can run something afterwards if we have the time and the inclination.”

 

“We can visit my parents!” Clarke says. “They live close to Bishop, kind of near the put-in, so either before or after—or both—we can stay there.”

 

“Oh really,” Bellamy says speculatively. “A five-day class V kayaking expedition and a visit to the parents. Look at all we can accomplish.”

 

“I can’t wait for you to meet my dad,” Clarke says. “I’ve been telling him about you—about all of you guys—for ever. He doesn’t get to paddle much anymore. He’s going to nerd out so hard.”

 

Bellamy realizes he can’t wait to meet her dad, either, because he wants to know everything about her, and understanding who raised her is part of that. And the Middle Kings, well, it’s still one of the most intense rivers he’s ever run, and one of the most special. There’s something about that place and about everything that goes into running it—the epic road-tripping across the continent to get there and back, the ridiculous hike over a high Sierra mountain pass to get to the put-in, the days of class V in a remote granite gorge—that makes it unlike anything else. He’s emotional already just thinking about the pure whitewater aspects of it. And he’s going to run it with Clarke. He’s not sure his heart can handle the experience, but he also knows now that he _needs_ to do it. He needs to paddle this river with Clarke.

 

“We’ll put the crew on notice,” he says. “Be ready to go mid-summer.”

 

Clarke grins. “I can’t wait.”

 

She leans over then and hugs him, and he lets his arms reach around her and pull her close. He can smell the clean water of the river and the smoke from the campfire in her hair, and wishes he could bottle that, too.

 

She pulls away too soon and looks at his bag. “Are you planning on sleeping out here?”

 

He looks back toward the dying fire, where their companions have already settled down for the night. “Yeah, I’m not that cold. Plus it’s just nice out here.”

 

She nods. “Mind if I join you?”

 

His heart stops again as he reminds himself that it doesn’t mean anything, that they’re just friends. “Not at all,” he says, because why not. He’s so far gone it’s not even funny. What’s one more thing to add to the list?

 

She gets her things and they roll out their sleeping pads and sleeping bags, and Clarke makes fun of the tiny camping pillow Bellamy managed to squeeze into the back of his boat, and he tells her she’ll be wanting one too, if they’re going to be doing this for four nights in California, and he’s almost able to forget that he’s pining for her inside because they’re just Bellamy and Clarke, talking river stuff, like always.

 

He’s nearly asleep when she whispers, “Hey.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you bringing a date to Monty and Miller’s wedding?”

 

_Uh oh._

 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says.

 

“Do you… do you want to go together, if neither of us have dates? As friends, I mean.”

 

His heart pounds in his chest because there is no way that this won’t fuck him up further, feelings-wise, but the last thing he can handle is seeing her show up with someone else, so.

 

“Yeah. Sure. Let’s do it.”

 

She reaches out and squeezes his arm and smiles, and he resists the urge to grab her hand and interlace her fingers with his.

 

“It’s a date,” she says as she slides her hand away and closes her eyes.

 

 _I'm so screwed,_  he thinks.

 

It takes him a while to fall asleep after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this killing you? Because rest assured it's killing me. Writing these two falling in love makes me cry. At least we're getting warmer... 
> 
> Here's the song the band plays first at the roadhouse: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHdXQAQHjd8
> 
> This is the version of "Knocking on Heaven's Door" that Wick likes best: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tmc8rJgxUI
> 
> And here's the version that Clarke has her in her head: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IaSIPQ-Bdc8


	6. Chapter 6

 

Clarke’s a smart woman. She prides herself on being in touch with her body and her mind, on understanding who she is and what she wants. She knows things have been different with Bellamy lately, that she’s been thinking and feeling things about their friendship that she doesn’t know quite how to deal with it, but she figures she can take it slowly. Take time and observe these things, to see if they change, or if they stay the same, because whatever they are, she doesn’t want them to threaten what she has with Bellamy. So she calmly decides to set them aside for observation, and proceed as usual. It’s a great plan.    

 

 

And then she asks him to be her date to Monty and Miller’s wedding, which is definitely not part of that plan, and she’s not so sure anymore how smart she is. 

 

 

It’s funny how it arises. She hadn’t really thought about who her date would be until Octavia asked her who she was bringing, and she drew a blank. The last person she’d dated was Lexa, and she hadn’t been seeing anyone, so she’d told Octavia she would go stag, and Octavia had told her that was  _boring_ , and besides, her ex-boyfriend would be there, and didn’t she want the satisfaction of having a hot date to shove in his face? Octavia had also mentioned wanting to set Bellamy up right around the time she was setting Clarke up, and had said something like “And if it works out then he’ll have a date to the wedding.” Which had made Clarke start thinking about seeing Bellamy show up at the wedding with a date she didn’t know, and it made her feel weird. 

 

 

Then she’d gone on the date with Nyko, the climber Octavia set her up with who is a naturopathic doctor. It had been nice, and Clarke had tried to think about what it would be like to date him, to bring him to the wedding, but she just didn’t see it going in that direction, so at the end of the night when he’d gone for nothing more than a kiss on the cheek, she’d been relieved. She told Octavia she might go out with him again, just to get her to chill out a bit, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Her heart wasn’t in it. 

 

 

And then Bellamy was acting weird on the Linville. They hadn’t paddled together in a few weeks because he’d been injured, and she’d seen so much less of him than normal that it felt strange. She was sure they would fall back into their easy rhythm once the trip to the river started, but they never quite got there. They had Miller in the truck with them on the way there, and then things on the water were pretty normal, but when they reached camp Bellamy was being weirdly quiet and wandered off by himself after dinner, and she had to go find him so they could finally get some one-on-one time together.

 

 

 _I’ve never had something like it with anyone before_ , she’d said about their friendship, and it’s true, she hasn’t. It’s why she has no idea how to deal with it, because this is uncharted territory. It’s why she asks him to be her date to Monty and Miller’s wedding. It’s why, after she asks him and he says yes, she finally admits to herself that it’s all careening towards something, some unknown, and that scares her. She just wants to hold on to what they have, and live inside it forever, but that’s stupid and childish, and she needs to work her way up to facing it. After the wedding.

 

 

“I’m sorry, did you just say you’re going to the wedding with my brother?” Octavia asks as she waits for Clarke to try on dresses in a little boutique in downtown Arkville.

 

 

Clarke pulls a strapless number up over her boobs and makes a face at herself in the dressing room mirror. She knows this conversation could get really weird really fast if she doesn’t play it right.

 

 

“Yeah,” she replies. “I—we decided to go together since neither of us had dates.”

 

 

“Are you dressed yet?” Octavia asks.

 

 

Clarke whips the curtain back and strikes a pose.

 

 

Octavia wrinkles her nose. “Okay, I don’t like that dress.”

 

 

Clarke shrugs. “Me neither. I think the dark purple one with the v-neck is going to be it, but I need to make sure my boobs don’t look too ridiculous in it.”

 

 

“News flash Clarke, your boobs look ridiculous in everything. Try it on, though.”

 

 

Clarke changes and spends a moment rearranging her breasts and finds that, fortunately, she’ll be able to wear a regular bra with it. When she flings back the curtain and strikes another pose, Octavia whistles.

 

 

“Now  _that_ ’s the kind of dress you wear on a date with my brother.”

 

 

“It’s not a  _date_  date,” Clarke says. 

 

 

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Neither of you had dates, correct?”

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

 

“Neither of you have dates because you spend all of your time together and half the people in Arkville think you’re dating anyway, so you’re cutting out the middle-man and just going together,  _correct_?”

 

 

“What? You’re phrasing it wrong,” Clarke protests. 

 

 

Octavia stands up and reaches for Clarke’s hair, to start playing with different styles that might look good with the dress. Clarke watches the blush creep up from her chest to her face in mirror but, surprisingly, Octavia stays quiet. Her face is thoughtful as she runs her fingers through Clarke’s hair and starts to braid it quickly. She pulls out a hair tie and fixes it in place, and then stands back to admire her work. 

 

 

“Not quite what I’d go for on the actual night, but it’ll do for now,” Octavia says. 

 

 

Clarke prepares herself for some teasing, or at the very least some mild prying, but Octavia doesn’t mention the wedding date again. This makes Clarke slightly suspicious, but she lets it drop, because it’s not like she wants to dig deeper into why she asked him and what it means, either with Octavia or with her own internal monologue. Nope, too complicated for right now.

 

 

Octavia drops the subject with Clarke, but with Bellamy, it’s a different story.

 

 

"Do you like Clarke?" Octavia asks him one night when she's over at his place.

 

 

"What?" he asks, alarmed.

 

 

"Do. You. Like. Clarke?" she repeats slowly. 

 

 

They're sitting in the dining room, having just had dinner. Octavia had come over to get some of her summer clothes that were still in her old room, and they're having some rare one-on-one sibling time.

 

Which of course Octavia uses to grill him.

 

 

His gut clenches because aside from teasing on the part of Wick and sometimes Murphy, nobody has brought this up with him yet ("If you're not tapping that, I am seriously disappointed in you, man," Murphy had said the other week over lunch at work when they'd been discussing the Linville run; Bellamy had thrown an apple core at him and told him to shove it). 

 

 

He opens his mouth to start to deny it and says, "I—" but then he stops, because Octavia knows him inside out, and she's not going to buy any bullshit from him. So he responds with a question instead. "Why are you asking me that?"

 

 

Octavia gives him an exasperated look and takes a deep breath. "Bell, I've known you for my entire life. I can read you like the back of my hand. And you've been acting weird lately, and the most reasonable explanation I can come up with is that you have feelings for Clarke. So tell me, am I right or am I right?"

 

 

He swallows and thinks about his list, which by this point is titled _You're Fucked, Buddy, and Here are ALL OF THE REASONS WHY_ , and _of course_ Octavia has figured it out. Because she's good at making lists too, and he wouldn't be surprised if she's been tallying this particular situation up in her head for a while now.

 

 

"I... think I need a stiffer drink if we're going to have this conversation," he says, pushing back from the table to get his bottle of Woodford Reserve, because it may as well be the smooth stuff if he's going to be talking about something difficult.

 

 

"Oh my god," Octavia says, watching him. "You _do_ have feelings for her. Holy shit."

 

 

He just glowers as he sets the bottle on the table. "You want in on this?" he asks.

 

 

"I'm driving to Lincoln's after, so no. But I will _gladly_ sit here and watch you drink bourbon and explain to me what is going on. Bellamy, look at me," she says, and he raises his eyes after pouring himself a drink. "Are you freaking out?"

 

 

He pauses, considers acting tough, and decides against it. "Pretty much.”

 

 

Octavia's face melts in compassion. "Oh, Bell. How long?"

 

 

He chokes out a short laugh and takes a drink. "Good question. The more I try to figure that out, the less clear it is. I guess I started paying attention to it back in the winter when I couldn't ignore it any longer but... It's Clarke. She's... I feel like there are parts of this that go back a long time, and that scares the shit out of me."

 

 

Octavia's eyes widen in comprehension. "So. It’s not just a little crush."

 

 

He shakes his head. "Trust me, I wish this were that simple."

 

 

Octavia considers him for a moment. "Why do you wish that?"

 

 

"Because if it were just a little crush, or whatever, I could get over it. I could just shove it away and nothing would change, and everything would just be the way it always is. But if it’s bigger, if I can’t ignore it, then it’ll just lead to a big mess," he says.

 

 

"Bellamy,” Octavia says slowly after watching him for a moment. “Has it even occurred to you that maybe this could lead to something good? Have you talked to her about this yet?"

 

 

"Uh, no," he says, disregarding her suggestion. "And I'm not going to. She only sees me as a friend. And what Clarke and I have, it’s good, it’s solid. It’s a friendship but it’s also the way things are between us on the water. You’re a kayaker. You understand. She’s like the other side of my coin out there or something. That sounds so cheesy but I can’t figure out how else to put it into words. And the last thing I want to do is fuck that up."

 

 

Octavia bites her lip, her eyes filled with sympathy, and Bellamy regrets getting into this conversation. "Have you thought about the fact that she might have feelings for you too?"

 

 

He sips his bourbon again. "She doesn't."

 

"How do you know that if you haven't asked her?"

 

 

"Because we talk about our friendship, okay? When we were on the Linville together she was talking about her date—thanks, by the way, for _that_ , O. And then she starts talking about this special thing we have and how people are stupid for thinking there's anything more than friendship between us. And then she asked me to Monty and Miller's wedding specifically as friends. So no, she doesn't feel that way."

 

 

Octavia shakes her head slightly. "I'm not so sure."

 

 

Bellamy refuses to get his hopes up. "Trust me, she doesn't."

 

 

Octavia reaches for his bourbon and takes a sip. "I'm just... I don't know, Bell, when she told me you guys were going to the wedding together, and then I saw the dress she's planning on wearing, and the way she blushed when I teased her a little about it, I got pretty curious. And I started thinking back through the way things have gone down the past few months. Which is why I’m giving you shit about this tonight. I feel like a lot of things are starting to make more sense now."

 

 

Bellamy leans back in his chair and levels his gaze at Octavia. "Clarke blushing doesn't mean anything. She blushes all the time."

 

 

"Yes, she does,” Octavia concedes. “Around you. Ever think about why?"

 

 

He just shakes his head like _obviously_ he hasn't, because he assumes she blushes around everyone. It’s Clarke, she has that whole peaches and cream thing happening. That’s a thing, right? He's not buying this argument.

 

 

"Seriously Bellamy, can you not think of anything, in the grand history of your friendship with Clarke, that might indicate something about her feelings for you?"

 

 

"Besides the multiple times she's articulated that those feelings are friendship-only? Not really." 

 

 

And then the kiss pops into his mind, and he's the one blushing and looking at the ice in his drink, and Octavia picks up on it right away. 

 

 

"Spill," she demands.

 

 

He lets out a breath. "We, ah, she kissed me. About a year ago. On the night she broke up with Finn."

 

 

"WHAT?!" Octavia exclaims loudly, causing Bellamy to jump slightly in his chair.

 

 

"Jesus. Calm down."

 

 

"I'm sorry, no. I will not calm down. You're telling me Clarke kissed you _over a year ago_ and this is the first I'm hearing about it from either of you? I am so mad at _both_ of you right now!"

 

 

"It's not the kind of thing either of us wanted getting around, okay? She had just broken up with Finn a few hours before it happened, so it's not like she did it for any reason other than to get that asshole off her mind. In fact, she made it clear that she did it because I was her friend and that it wasn't romantic."

 

 

"Did you kiss her back?"

 

 

"I—well—sort of. It's complicated."

 

 

"How do you 'sort of' kiss someone back?" Octavia asks, unable to hold back a laugh.

 

 

"Look. It happened right around the time Jen and I started dating,” he says, swirling his drink. “Clarke and I were talking in the yard and she asked if we were friends. And then she caught me completely by surprise, and my brain just shut off. I didn’t really realize it until a while afterwards, but I kissed her back before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to and—oh my god, can we _please_ not talk about this anymore?"

 

 

"Uh uh. Too late, bro. This happened in the _yard_? Where was I?"

 

 

"Sleeping. It was the night before you ran the Green the first time."

 

 

"Damn. I sleep through all the good stuff. Okay, so she kissed you and you just blanked and kissed her back before you remembered you had a girlfriend? This is way more complicated than I realized."

 

 

"No it's not. Clarke and I have dealt with this, it's not an issue."

 

 

"Uh, clearly it is, because you're drinking your good bourbon on a weeknight and have no idea what to do about the fact that you are majorly into her now."

 

 

Bellamy closes his eyes. 

 

 

"So what are you going to do?" Octavia asks.

 

 

"Nothing,” he replies.

 

 

"You can't just do nothing,” she says softly.

 

 

"Yes, I can,” he says back. “And _you_ can keep your mouth shut about this, please."

 

 

Octavia shakes her head. "You are such an idiot sometimes, you know that?"

 

 

"Yeah, I've been telling myself that a lot lately, so thanks for making me feel even worse."

 

 

Octavia's face crumples in compassion again and she gets up and walks around the table to pull Bellamy in for a hug, ruffling his hair as she pulls his head against her chest.

 

 

"I love you, big brother," she says. "And I'll keep your secret. But I don't think you're going to be able to do nothing forever. Eventually you'll have to deal with this. And when that happens, I'm here for you, okay?"

 

 

He hugs her back. "Thanks," he says gruffly, and he means it. Because it does somehow feel slightly better now that he's confessed to her, and he knows she’s there for him.

 

 

She crosses her arms after she pulls back and looks at him, a smirk spreading across her face. 

 

 

"You poor asshole," she says, shaking her head.

 

 

"What?" he asks.

 

 

"You're going to die when you see her in this dress. I’m sorry in advance."

 

 

“Goddammit,” he curses into his glass before he finishes his drink. Add it to the list.

 

 

**

 

 

Octavia plays with Clarke’s hair for a while when they’re getting ready for the wedding and eventually decides to style it loosely around her shoulders with just a few pieces pulled back from her face. “You look gorgeous,” she says with a twinkle in her eye after she finishes doing Clarke’s makeup.

 

 

“Damn girl,” Raven says when Clarke walks out of Octavia’s room in her dress and heels.  “You’re gonna slay tonight.”

 

 

Clarke’s not listening to Raven, because Clarke’s looking at Bellamy, who’s standing in the doorway waiting for them. He’s wearing a pair of charcoal dress pants that hug his strong legs and a white button-down shirt with a dark green tie. His thumbs are hooked in his belt loops and he’s looking right back at her, his face inscrutable. It shouldn’t surprise her that he looks good all dressed up, because he’s an attractive person. She’s always found him so. But she finds her mouth is dry and she isn’t quite sure if she’s supposed to say anything or not, and then Octavia clears her throat and they look away from each other and over at her.

 

 

“You dummies ready to go? We have a whole truckload of stuff to bring over there,” she says, hauling Lincoln out the door and gesturing for the rest of them to follow her.

 

 

Monty and Miller’s wedding is a true DIY affair—beyond the professional catering by Monty and Jasper’s restaurant, of course—with everyone pitching in to help decorate and set things up and make it special. Neither of the men are particularly flashy or materialistic, so it suits them, the way they’re doing it, and Clarke is really looking forward to seeing it all come together.

 

 

The task to which Octavia refers is the transportation of as many chairs as they can fit into the back of Bellamy’s truck, because instead of renting chairs and tables the couple have asked their friends to round up whatever they can and bring it to Miller’s parents’ place just outside of Arkville, which borders a big field where they’ll be having the wedding. Wick is headed there as well with his truck full of folding tables, and they’ve got more chairs coming as well.

 

 

Clarke heads for the back seat but Octavia nudges her towards the front saying, “You’re his date, you get shotgun.”

 

 

Clarke shrugs and uses her arms to pull herself up into the cab, finding it a bit tricky to move in her tight dress. Bellamy jumps in right at the same time and their eyes meet again as they settle into their seats.

 

 

“Hey,” he says, a bit quiet under the ruckus of everyone else piling into the back.

 

 

“Hey,” she replies. She lets her eyes skim over his body again and then back up to his eyes. “You look good.”

 

 

Bellamy swallows. “So do you.”

 

 

She smiles. “Thanks. I thought it might be a little over the top, cleavage-wise, but Octavia gave it the go-ahead, so.”

 

 

He just stares at her, and the expression on his face makes her want to laugh all of a sudden, because it’s adorable. “It’s perfect,” he says finally, and then looks away to put the truck into gear.

 

 

They get to Miller’s parents’ place a bit early so they can help set everything up, and Clarke changes out of her heels and into a pair of leather flip flops she brought in her bag because she figures it’s not worth her feet getting sore before the event even starts, given the amount of work they have to do. They all work together to set up the chairs and tables for both the ceremony and the reception, and once things are mostly in hand, Bellamy heads off to find Miller where he’s getting ready in his childhood room. 

 

 

Miller has asked Bellamy to be his best man, an honor that touches Bellamy deeply. They’ve been friends ever since they met at summer camp as kids. Miller didn’t care that Bellamy was there on scholarship, and they became close early on, sticking together through thick and thin over the years. Miller was Bellamy’s first employee, and they’ve recently made plans for Miller to buy into the business with him so they can run it together and take on more work. Bellamy marvels at how things have changed so much over the years, and yet managed to stay the same, too. 

 

 

“Looking good,” Bellamy says as he enters the room and finds Miller fixing his tie in the mirror. Miller’s dad is there too, and one of his cousins is ducking in with a tray of glasses so they can have a pre-ceremony drink. 

 

 

“Thanks man,” Miller says, and he can’t hold back an excited smile. “You get the flower for your lapel yet?”

 

 

Bellamy holds up a box containing the single flower. “Just have to stick it on.”

 

 

Miller’s cousin passes around the drinks and they make a toast to Miller and Monty, and Bellamy finds himself tearing up a bit, which, if he’s ready to cry at this point, he’s going to be a mess in the ceremony itself, he’s sure. But fuck it. It’s his best friend’s wedding and he’ll cry if he wants to, audience be damned.

 

 

He catches sight of Clarke through the window. She’s carrying a box through the yard to the field, and she’s a mix of casual in her flip-flops and dressed to the nines in the dress that Octavia was 100% correct about. It would be the death of him, or at the very least the death of any last vestige of hope that he could pull off this not-date thing casually. It’s short and low-cut and a shade of purple that highlights her eyes and he knows Clarke is the most beautiful thing in the universe at this point no matter what she’s wearing but this, this is something else.

 

 

“Your date?” Miller asks, following Bellamy’s gaze. Clarke has tripped a bit and thrown her head back in laughter at something Raven said.

 

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, voice unintentionally gruff.

 

 

Miller nods, looks at Bellamy. “That’s a good thing,” he says. 

 

 

Bellamy considers him. Miller is with both of them all the time on the water, with Bellamy all the time at work. He knows him so well, but he doesn’t speak much about this kind of thing, so when he does, Bellamy listens. “You think so?”

 

 

“I do,” Miller says. 

 

 

“You’re supposed to save that line for Monty,” Bellamy kids.

 

 

Miller laughs. “Look, Blake. It’s my wedding day. I’m allowed to dispense all the romantic advice I want. If Clarke is the one for you, you gotta go for it.”

 

 

Bellamy’s heart skips a beat at the phrase _the one,_ because that’s a pretty heavy phrase, and it’s the kind of thing that, as a man, he’s culturally trained to shy away from. And as Bellamy, it’s something he’s avoided thinking about when it comes to Clarke because he can barely handle the mass of undefined feelings for her that he’s got churning inside. But Miller says the words, and Bellamy lets his brain go there, and the results are terrifying.

 

 

Because she could be. Clarke could be the one for him. All of a sudden he knows that, or rather he’s known that all along and is just now letting the admission see the light of day, and he feels the need to sit down as there’s a flash in his mind of a different wedding day in the future, of Clarke holding a baby, of the two of them sitting on a porch in their old age, and he needs to Shut. It. Down. If he’s going to make it through the rest of this day without doing something completely insane when it comes to her.

 

 

Miller is laughing at him by this point. “You look like someone just hit you upside the head with a two-by-four, dude,” he says. “I’m not saying you have to figure it all out now. If it’s right, you’ll figure it out. It takes time, and patience, but you will. What I  _am_ saying is that there’s going to be a kickass party tonight, and Clarke is your date, and it might not be the worst idea to make a move. Or something.”

 

 

Bellamy looks at Miller, thankful for his voice of reason. “It’s… I don’t know, man. I don’t know. I’m figuring things out, it’s just, the timing of it, it has to be right. This shit is scary.”

 

 

Miller chuckles. “It is. But we’re grown-ups now. The only way life moves forward is if we do things that are scary.”

 

 

“Are you scared?” Bellamy asks.

 

 

Miller shakes his head. “There were definitely times along the way to this moment that I was scared, for sure. It’s terrifying, opening yourself completely to another person, you know? But I’m not scared any more. I made a decision, and so did Monty, and that’s just commitment, man. You jump into it all together. You deal with being scared together.”

 

 

Bellamy is stunned by Miller's words. Miller isn't an overly loquacious person, but Bellamy thinks Miller is one of the wisest people he knows. It's his wedding day and he's just had some scotch, he's speaking from the heart. He means for Bellamy to take this seriously.

  


Which Bellamy does. He seeks Clarke out in the crowd from where he's standing up front with Jasper, the other best man, waiting for the wedding procession to begin. Clarke smiles and waves at him from where she's sitting with Octavia, Lincoln, Raven, and Wick, and his heart slams into his ribs a little bit as he thinks of Miller's words. _You jump into it all together_. He's starting to realize, after that conversation, that one reason he's so scared by all of this is that he doesn't want to just sleep with Clarke, or date Clarke—he wants it _all_ with Clarke. He can't have anything with her unless he can have everything. But he has no clue how to get there.

 

 

Bellamy has never felt this way about anyone before. The end of his last relationship demonstrated as much. It's a rather staggering realization to have in the middle of his best friend's wedding, he thinks, and yet maybe it also makes sense that seeing Miller this happy would trigger his own mind into imagining what it would be like to have that for himself. He tears up during the vows, just like he predicted, and then he's clapping as the grooms kiss and everyone is cheering as they walk out. He offers his arm to Miller's grandma to walk her to the reception and Clarke joins him on his other arm. 

 

 

"Nice work, best man," she says, smiling up at him and swiping at her cheek. "You held it together way better than I did during those vows. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara."

 

 

Bellamy looks at her teary eyes, which are still beautiful even with a slight redness, because of course Clarke is a pretty crier. He supposes he's biased, but Clarke would probably be pretty doing anything. She could probably kill someone in front of him and he'd be distracted by the curve of her cheek, the glint of the light in her hair.

 

 

"Barely," he says, and then has to look away to help Miller’s grandmother, and he’s glad for it because he needs to get his act together.

 

 

The reception gets rowdy quickly, to no one's surprise. Bellamy watches Clarke next to him at dinner, talking and laughing with everyone, and every once in a while she'll touch his hand or his arm to get his attention, or knock her knee against his under the table, and he knows it’s stupid but he can’t help but imagine what it would be like if they were here as a real couple. Octavia has started unhelpfully pointing out aspects of his and Clarke's relationship that resemble those of "old married couples" (her words not his). They are comfortable together, they understand each other, and yes, aspects of their relationship do resemble that of a real couple, he supposes.

 

 

But there are other things about them as individuals that make a romantic connection between them a much more far-fetched thing than Octavia or their other friends who think they should be together might realize. It would require a shift between them in ways he's not certain Clarke is ready or willing to do. Clarke is an enigma, because she is both incredibly responsive and carefully in control of herself at all times. She can be spontaneous, but she is also a careful person, one who weighs all of her options in every decision she makes, and who maintains a boundary around her heart.

 

He'd learned this about her after she broke up with Finn. He'd watched her rationalize that it had been a long time coming, that she'd known he was the wrong guy for her, but he hadn't been sure whether or not she truly believed what she was saying. It took him a while to realize it, but she'd been much more hurt by the situation than she'd let on. She'd opened up to him one day about it, in the weeks after he and Jen had broken up, when they’d been on the water. There had been a fair amount of philosophizing about relationships happening during dawn patrol around that time, which he realizes now was probably the beginning of the end of his ignorance of his feelings for Clarke.

 

 

She'd been truly hurt, crushed by the doubts that came with being cheated on. And in every romantic encounter she's had since, she's been extremely guarded, which is a sharp contrast to the Clarke he'd met years ago, before she started dating Finn. That Clarke had had a mysterious flirtatiousness about her, which translated into an openness. And he doesn't see that anymore. He wonders what it would be like, if he could find that again, if she could open up to him.

 

 

After the Linville, Bellamy had overheard Clarke explaining to Octavia that she wasn't going on more dates with Nyko because she wasn't ready to get into anything serious, and he glimpsed that defensiveness again. So Bellamy's problem has gotten worse, because he's basically realized that what he wants with Clarke is the most serious, and this makes him even more certain he can't say anything to her about it. He's not quite sure how to proceed, but something in his gut tells him if he wants to get anywhere with Clarke, he needs to take it slow. Needs to be strategic about how he lays the groundwork. This is Clarke. He has to do this right.

 

 

**

 

 

Clarke has an amazing time at the wedding. She's with her best friends in the world, celebrating two of them committing their lives to one another, and it's emotional and happy and she wouldn't trade it for anything. She sees a lot of people she hasn’t seen in a while, and meets many more new people, and she’s feeling good and social when she finally ends up having the awkward conversation with Finn that she knew was coming, which she couldn’t avoid forever.

 

 

Finn is at the wedding with his new girlfriend, Anna, who happens to be the girl he was cheating on Clarke with. Clarke knew they would be there, because Finn went to high school with Miller and Bellamy and is part of the extended friend group, and besides, they broke up over a year ago, so it’s not like any of their friends need to adjust their own plans to accommodate them anymore. But it still feels weird to see him, and she suspects it always will, a little bit.

 

He finds her during the cocktail hour, while the wedding party is getting photographed and she’s getting champagne for herself and a few others.

 

 

“Hey Clarke,” Finn says as she turns around from the bar with four flutes balanced in her hands.

 

 

“Oh! Hey Finn,” she says. “Sorry, I’ve got my hands full.”

 

 

“Do you need help?” he asks, his face beseeching in the way only he can be. Trying to offer everyone the world on a platter when he can, but without the follow-through. Anna stands slightly behind him, her eyes wary as she watches Clarke. Clarke knows Anna is afraid of her, and has been for years now—being someone’s side piece will do that—and she wishes she didn’t find it nearly as funny or satisfying as she does.

 

 

“I’ve got it,” she says, and then, because she’s nice person, turns and says, “Hi Anna.”

 

 

“Hi,” Anna replies quietly.

 

 

“Are you guys having fun?” she asks, and she wishes Finn would get on with the conversation so she could get these drinks back to their owners. And slam one, because this stressing her out.

 

 

“Totally,” Finn says. “Everything looks so awesome, you guys really pulled it all together.”

 

 

“Thanks,” she replies. She looks around and sees Bellamy heading her way—the wedding party photos must be finished—and relief begins to spread through her body because she knows this will be easier with him beside her.

 

 

“Hey guys,” Bellamy says as he approaches them, a quick move of his eyebrow asking Clarke if she’s okay, to which she responds with a tiny nod and a smile. His hands move automatically to take some of the champagne flutes from her, and she’s grateful. “ Where were you taking these? I think they want our table seated for dinner first so pretty soon we should make our way there.”

 

 

“Did you guys come together?” Finn asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

 

 

Clarke slides her free hand around Bellamy’s waist and pulls him to her. “Yeah, we did,” she says, her expression challenging Finn to say anything more. He just looks at them as Bellamy slides his free hand around Clarke’s shoulder and smiles down at her before looking back at Finn.

 

 

“Got a problem with that?” Bellamy asks, and Clarke wants to stomp on his foot a little for being an instigator but she can’t help but enjoy Finn’s subsequent denial of having any sort of problem. He looks at her and Bellamy curiously, as if trying to calculate what’s going on, and she doesn’t care that they’re basically misleading him, because if the thought of her and Bellamy together is something that bothers Finn this long after breaking up, then he can go ahead in stew in it.

 

 

She's so glad, then, that she asked Bellamy to be her date. And she’s even more glad at dinner, because he's exactly who she wants to be sitting next to, commenting under their breath to each other about the speeches (Clarke swears that his was the nerdiest, because he insisted on reading a Mary Oliver passage, and he pretends to be embarrassed but she knows he’s secretly pleased). After a few glasses of wine on top of the champagne from earlier, she starts to think about how this would have gone if they'd come with other people, and she realizes that when it comes right down to it, she doesn't like the idea of sharing him with anyone else. She doesn't like that _at all_ , which is a thing to be dealt with going forward, but for now she simply tucks it into the back of her mind and enjoys the party.

 

 

The dancing begins in earnest after the wedding pies are served (no boring cake for this DIY crew). Everyone they know is there, their crazy extended Arkville family, and Clarke finds herself talking to people she hasn't seen in a while and dancing with her friends, and everyone is drinking and having fun. Octavia drags Bellamy onto the dance floor for one fast number but he spends most of the evening talking to people—he's close with Miller's family and a lot of old friends are there, some from out of town, so he has a lot of people to catch up with. 

 

Every once in a while Clarke and Bellamy's eyes catch, like a silent checking in with each other, and it's a nice feeling, to know they don't have to spend every minute together, but are still in tune with what the other is doing throughout the night. They slowly drift closer, as the people they're talking to merge into one group, and soon they’re standing next to each other. The wine has made Clarke bolder, and she decides that the next time a slow song comes on she’s going to ask him to dance, because they’re each other’s dates, and she finds she just wants to.

 

 

As the opening notes of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” begin to play, Clarke curses Miller’s playlist choices under her breath because _of fucking course_ it’s this song, and works up her nerve. She knocks her shoulder against Bellamy’s arm and he looks over at her.

 

 

"Want to dance with me?" she asks.

 

 

She feels his gaze rake over her body before quickly meeting her eyes, and if she's not mistaken she sees a glimpse of his eyes becoming determined, like they when they're about to run a hard rapid, before they soften slightly and he offers her his arm.

 

 

They've never danced like this, she thinks as she slides her hands up over his shoulders and laces her fingers loosely behind his neck, and she can feel the waves of his hair against her skin. He slides his arms around her waist and she feels the ghosts of his fingers at the small of her back, and it's more than dancing, she thinks—they've never held each other like this.

 

 

He looks down at her and it's kind of too much, the wine and the emotions of the day coming down on her all at once, and there's something there in the depths of his eyes that's knocking on a door she keeps shut inside. So she buries her face against his upper chest and rests her cheek against him. She can feel his breath against her hair and she can smell his clean, masculine scent and feel the texture of his clean-shaven jawline if she moves her head just so. 

 

 

His arms tighten around her and she feels like this is the physical manifestation of how they make each other feel safe, the way they'd talked about the night after she'd stitched him up. The way they fit perfectly together, balancing each other as they lean into one another and just hold on through the song.

 

 

When they let go at the end of the dance and meet each other's eyes, Clarke feels a spark in her belly that's been building all night, if she's being honest.

 

 

Clarke recognizes it for what it is—attraction. She's always felt physically drawn to him. She remembers how it was before she was with Finn, when she'd first admitted to herself that she thought Bellamy was hot. She'd been happy to write it off as platonic appreciation of the physique of a friend, and she’s so used to being around him all the time now that he’s just Bellamy, and she doesn’t think about him like that.

 

 

Except maybe that’s changing. Because this feeling in her gut isn't platonic. She doesn't know what it is, other than that she thinks she _wants_ him, maybe, and _oh fuck_ that is too confusing, and too complicated, and no. No. It's too big of a prospect to figure out while drunk at a wedding. Right?

 

 

They both back away slightly and Clarke laughs to cover her confusion over what she’s feeling. She looks around the room and then back at Bellamy, who's gesturing to the bar to see if she wants another drink, and she says "Sure?" and then he's gone, and she's standing there wondering how the hell she got so turned on by a slow dance. 

 

 

Bellamy means to go to the bar but he never makes it, because it's hot and muggy inside the tent and when he finds a convenient place to duck away and get out into the open air, he takes it. He needs it. Holding Clarke for that dance was more than he was really prepared to handle, and the way she fit against him was burned into his skin now, to torture him with knowledge of what it could feel like. 

 

 

And the lyrics to that goddamn song.

_Well I’ve been afraid of changing_

_‘Cause I built my life around you_

_But time makes you bolder_

_Even children get older_

_And I’m getting older too_

He’s wants to kill Stevie Nicks for writing that song, and kill Miller for putting it on his wedding playlist, because does he really need that shit playing while he’s holding Clarke like that? No, he does not, thank you very much.

 

So he needs a breather. He comes out to find the night sky clouding up, the winds starting to whip more swiftly through the trees. The forecast had said a chance of rain, but this looks like a storm rolling in. Bellamy has always felt at home in stormy weather, even before he became a kayaker and started craving the rain. So he walks out into the field a bit, striding away from the noise and light of the party, and he lets the wind blow around him as if it can wipe away some of the chaos in his mind. 

 

 

She'd looked at him differently than she ever had before, after that dance. He'd felt it viscerally, felt the tug between them, and it's a miracle he'd been able to control himself and not end up with a blatant hard-on. Throughout the whole dance really, but especially when she'd looked at him like that. And then she'd laughed and the moment was over and he needed to get away because fuck. He had just vowed to be careful and slow and responding to that look in Clarke's eyes is not a part of that plan.

 

 

But there's been an invisible tether between them all night, so of course she finds him out there. He hears her calling his name through the now-howling wind. He turns and sees her walking toward him, her heels replaced by flip flops again, her hair whipping against her face.

 

 

"Hey," she calls. "This storm's about to rage."

 

 

"I know," he calls back, and thunder rolls in the distance.

 

 

"What are you doing out here?" she asks when she's close enough that they don't have to shout.

 

 

"I just... needed some air," he replies, and his hair is blowing in his eyes, too.

 

 

She pushes her hair out of her face so she can look at him, and he's not sure what she's determined to do, but it's something, because he knows that expression on her face. 

 

 

"Bellamy," she says, and he waits for her to finish her sentence but she just looks at him.

 

 

"Clarke," he says, and his voice comes out slightly rough, against his will. 

 

 

She takes a step closer. "Do you—do you remember when I, um, kissed you in the yard that one time?"

 

 

He can't look anywhere but her mouth, hearing the words as they tumble out, because yes he remembers, he thinks about it _a lot_ , actually. If she only knew.

 

 

He pulls his gaze up to her eyes. 

 

 

"Yeah," he says. "I remember."

 

 

Her hair escapes her grasp and she has to tame it again, and then she's taking a breath, like she's working up the nerve, and he can't get his hopes up, he can't.

 

 

"Do you ever wonder—"

 

 

Lightning flashes and a loud CRACK of thunder snaps around them and suddenly rain is pouring, a torrent of water falling from the sky. Clarke jumps and lets out a cry of shock at the noise, her sentence forgotten, but they stay rooted to their places as the rain soaks them through. Bellamy's white shirt is getting plastered against his torso and rivulets of rain are running down Clarke's skin into the (very low, _thanks Octavia_ ) neckline of her dress. Her hair is soaked and she's breathing with the adrenaline from the lightning strike, and he feels her gaze flicking to his mouth and he's fighting with himself inside, trying to complete what she was going to say.

 

 

"BELLAMY!" a voice cries into the night, and the spell is broken. They look back at the party and people are starting to run around outside and gather things to get them out of the rain. The tent is there, luckily, but most of the wedding decorations are still up, chairs are set up everywhere—there's a lot of work to do to get things out of the rain.

 

 

The voice belongs to Monroe, and she’s yelling about how she needs him to help move chairs, and when she sees Clarke she starts shouting orders at her, too. Bellamy shoots Clarke an apologetic look that says _We'll finish this conversation later_ , and then they're jogging through the rain to do what they can.

 

 

Things end up getting pretty crazy after that. The wind and rain are everywhere, and some of the older guests need help getting to the house or back to their cars. Bellamy ends up moving and loading furniture with Wick and Raven while Clarke gets enlisted by Jasper to move catering equipment and food into the restaurant’s van. Everyone is rushing around, and finally there's a moment when everyone pauses to say goodbye to happy couple, who are spending their wedding night at a fancy lodge outside of town before heading to the airport for their honeymoon in Kauai the next morning.

 

 

After they're gone, Bellamy and the others keep working. The plan had been to clean up the next morning, but that's not an option with the rain. He sees Clarke standing with Jasper by his van, and Jasper is begging her to come back to the restaurant with him to help unload everything.

 

 

Add Jasper to the list of people he wants to kill, right behind Stevie Nicks and Miller, and his sister (for the dress) and himself (for being the idiot who got into this mess in the first place). Clarke can't say no to Jasper, he knows. He can see that in her face, and they’ve all worked so hard to pull this off, it’s time to finish the job. She looks at Bellamy apologetically because it looks like their date is coming to an end, but then a look of excitement crosses her face. 

 

 

"We should talk in the morning," she says, and his heart leaps because yes, please, finish that train of thought you were working on earlier, Clarke, before the world’s least convenient lightning strike happened. But then she bursts his bubble. "With this rain, the Raven Fork could finally run."

 

 

He sees the phone in her hand, sees that she's been checking the radar while talking to Jasper, and they're back to kayaking. It all comes back to that, in the end. He searches her face for traces of what he'd seen there earlier, when she’d brought up the kiss, but it's gone. 

 

 

"Bellamy! I need to you help lift this!" someone calls out.

 

 

"I should get that,” he says as he turns to go. “I’ll call you when I wake up and see the gauge.” He gets pulled away after that, and Clarke is nodding and getting into Jasper's van, which is being driven by one of his employees who hasn’t been drinking.

 

 

She waves through the window as the van drives by where he’s loading tables with Wick, and he doesn’t even care when Wick laughs at him for smiling and waving back like a total dope. He waves goodbye, and he’s frustrated that their night together got cut short, but for the first time, after seeing that look in her eyes, he has hope. He knows it won’t be easy. He knows it’s going to take patience, and work. But he’s willing to hope. He’s willing to try.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I wrote most of this on my phone while driving through the western US, so mistakes are even more likely but I wanted to get this out there, and get the story moving. Warning: angst ahead. 
> 
> Bellamy's Mary Oliver quote: “If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)” from Swan: Poems and Prose.
> 
> (Yes, I know he should listen to his own advice.)
> 
> Thanks to flonkertons and crystalkei for bouncing ideas around with me on this one!


	7. Chapter 7

C & B’s Southeastern Steep Creek To-Do List (aka the KICK IT UP A NOTCH List):

_~~Toxaway~~ _

_~~Horsepasture~~ _

_~~Linville~~ _

_~~West Prong~~ _

_~~The Bear~~ _

_Raven Fork_

 

Clarke's phone buzzes next to her aching head way too early the morning after the wedding. She groans and reaches for it and croaks out a "Hello?"

 

"Hey, it's me," Bellamy says.

 

Her body feels a wave of remembering at the sound of his voice, a grasping for what happened last night, which couldn't have been anything too crazy, apparently, because she’s waking up alone in her bed. But then the fog clears a bit and she remembers that she may have been _trying_ to bring it somewhere crazy? She doesn’t totally know, except that she thought it was a good idea to chase him down in a storm and start talking about the kiss.  _Fuck_ , she thinks, her head pounding slightly again with mortification. These are things she'll have to unpack later, when this hangover is gone.

 

"Hey," she says on a sigh, because her body lets her confusion out in her voice and she prays he can't tell how strange she sounds.

 

"Raven Fork is in," his voice rumbles over the line.

 

She blinks and sits up, kiss talk temporarily forgotten. "Really?"

 

"Really,” he says. “You in?"

 

Her temples throb—nobody tells you that hangovers get worse as you get older, she thinks, and that they also come with emotional components—but she nods and then remembers that he can't see her through the phone.

 

"Of course," she says. "Of course I'm in."

 

"How are you feeling after last night?" he asks.

 

"A little worse for the wear, to be honest,” she admits. “But I'll be fine. I didn't realize I drank that much."

 

"Champagne doesn’t help,” he says with a chuckle. Damn him. “There's eggs and bacon in your fridge, I saw them yesterday. Did Wick stay over? Is his boat there?"

 

"Yes he did, and yes it is,” she says as she gets out of bed and starts getting her kayaking clothes ready. “He pretty much keeps it in our backyard full time now."

 

"Okay. Wake him up and tell him the plan, and cook those eggs and bacon,” Bellamy instructs. “You'll need the grease for the hangover and the hike in."

 

She does as he says, because it sounds like good advice, and by the time Bellamy pulls up to the house she and Wick are waiting out front with their gear ready to go. Bellamy and Clarke make eye contact when he gets out of his truck, and she can see a questioning look cross his face briefly, and goddammit, there’s now this unfinished business between them. Which is exactly what she wanted to avoid with her initial plan of patient observation. Everything between them used to make so much sense, and now she couldn’t be more confused.

 

She watches him now, his arm and shoulder muscles flexing under his shirt as he jumps out of the truck, and the jolt of attraction is there again. The freckled patterns on his forearms have darkened with the summer sun—since when has she been taking stock of his _freckle updates_? And last night had she really thought it was a good idea to ask him if he wondered what it would be like if they tried kissing each other again in a decidedly not-friends kind of way?

 

She hadn’t been able to finish the question, and she’s almost grateful for the lightning strike, actually, because in the sober light of day, she’s not sure she’s ready to know his answer. What if he laughed at her? Or worse, pitied her? What if he thought it was a great idea and then they tried it and it didn’t work? Deep down, she’s scared that that conversation could be the beginning of the end of the two of them, and that terrifies her.

 

So she sees it as a narrow miss, and she thinks she can get things back to the “careful observation” stage of analyzing what’s going on inside her when it comes to Bellamy if she plays it right, and she is definitely too hung over to figure this all out right now. So she’s grateful when his face changes into a joking smile as he chuckles at her and Wick.

 

“Feeling a bit rough this morning, guys?” he asks.

 

Wick gives him the finger as he starts to load gear. 

 

“How are you so chipper?” Clarke asks grouchily. “Weren’t you drinking just as much as the rest of us?”

 

Bellamy shrugs and reaches for her boat. “I guess not. Or maybe it was that I stuck to the same kind of drink all night long.”

 

“You didn’t drive, did you?” she asks as she tosses her gear in the back.

 

“No, Lincoln dropped me and the truck off at my place. It’s useful having him around sometimes,” he says.

 

Clarke cracks her first real smile of the day at Bellamy’s grudging appreciation of his sister’s boyfriend. He’s protective of Octavia, and had been gruff and intimidating at first, but has since grown to like Lincoln, even if he won’t fully admit it. Bellamy in big brother mode does funny things to Clarke’s heart, she realizes. File that away for later observation.

 

Soon the three of them are barrelling down the highway towards the town of Cherokee to meet Marcus Kane. Ibuprofen and constantly drinking water help Clarke feel more like herself, along with the grease from breakfast, but she knows it’s going to be a tough day. Everyone is quiet on the drive, still tired from the night before, and as they approach the put-in, Clarke's stomach begins to churn with nerves. She doesn’t like kayaking hung over, but this river runs so rarely that she has no choice but to do it. She just has to get her head in the game.

 

The Raven Fork has a mystique about it, because it's so difficult and located in such a remote place, accessible only by permission from the landowner and a gruelling hike to the put-in. Very few people run it, and those who do run it often come away having had a spiritual experience. It's the most difficult of the rivers they've paddled, with consistent, technical class V+ the whole way down. Everything has been leading up to this, she thinks as she grinds her way through the hike, and by the time they put on the water she’s still nervous, but she feels ready. She has to be ready.

 

 _You can do this, you can do this,_  she repeats to herself as she paddles. She feels a bit shaky on the first few drops, but settles in more after Anaconda, the first serious rapid. They go and go, not talking much, and Clarke can see how this is a spiritual place for people, with the rain still falling steadily around them. By the time they get to Big Boy, the biggest drop on the river, Clarke feels like she’s got things mostly dialled, although she has to admit she’s looking forward to warming up and drying off after the run.

 

She’s thinking about this as she paddles into the entrance rapid, and after that she’s not sure what happens, exactly, except that she's a few inches too far to one side on her line as she flies over the lip of the massive drop. She knows it’s wrong as soon as she has no more control over it, and she lands in the wrong spot at the wrong angle and gets flipped in the hole at the bottom.

 

Getting “worked” in a hole is something kayakers are used to. A hole is a feature where moving water pours over something, usually a rock or a ledge, and recirculates up and back over itself in a foamy pile. The laws of physics make holes "sticky" in that they tend to hold onto things that end up in their flow. People use holes on class II-III whitewater for playboating purposes, because holes allow a paddler to balance his or her boat in the water feature and attempt tricks. If you get flipped in a hole, you might get kicked around a bit, but the general course of action is to hang on until you get flushed out and then roll back up.

 

Holes on class V are not for play. This one clings to Clarke's boat and tosses her around, refusing to flush her downstream. She attempts to roll back up, only to get grabbed by the hole again and flipped back over. This happens twice more, and by the third time, she knows her attempts are futile. The hole is too sticky. So she digs deep and draws on all of her instincts and training to figure out the best way to get out of the situation. She lets go of her paddle and pulls her sprayskirt so she can exit her boat, because her best chance is to swim out even though abandoning her boat is dangerous—she simply has no other choice. 

Once she’s free of her boat, Clarke's body gets bounced around within the giant, forceful cloud of water that is the hole roaring loudly all around her. She feels herself getting pulled deeper after a moment, which she hopes means she is finally getting freed from the grip of the hole, but her lungs scream as she has less and less air. Eventually she gets flushed out of the hole, and the swift current carries her downstream. This would be a relief if it weren't for the rapids immediately following this one. It's more class V, and the chances of getting pinned on something are high. If the force of the current in this type of water pins a person's boat or body against a rock or a log, it's very difficult to pull them out of the situation.

 

It's for this very reason that kayakers carry ropes and carabiners as safety gear in their boats and attached to their life jackets. Everyone in their crew is trained in whitewater rescue techniques, and while Clarke is trying her hardest to get to shore, she's terrified that she'll get pinned. She allows herself to hope that her friends are there to safely assist her. The key word being safely—she's in a nightmare situation, and she doesn't want to make it worse by dragging any of them into it.  

 

The water swirls around Clarke, greenish-blue from within the depths, and her thoughts are starting to become foggy. Clarke has had swims before, but nothing like this. The force of the water and the magnitude of the consequences are exponentially higher than anything she's faced before. She swims like hell because her life depends on it, gasping air when she can, but she gets dragged deeper and deeper and as the oxygen in her lungs is depleted, the muscles in her limbs are unable to keep working as quickly.

 

Clarke feels her body succumb to the mercy of the current, and the light of the surface is just out of reach as she is tossed hard against a rock and bumped further downstream. She’s not pinned—yet—but she’s headed somewhere bad, very bad, with the rapid after Big Boy being full of things that could injure or kill a swimmer. And as she is carried that way, the expression about seeing one's life before one's eyes when faced with death turns out to be true, in a sense, or rather the people in her life flash before her.  She envisions her father's face, which morphs into her mother's, and then there's a scrambled procession of people. Octavia and Raven are there, hair tangled together and mouths open as if calling to her, and she wants to reach for them but she can't. And then there's Bellamy's face, and she doesn't think tears are possible while nearly drowning and underwater, but the sting is there, and she feels a desperation and a terror that she didn’t know she could feel. She wants to scream as Bellamy’s face fades from her mind, but she has nothing left within her to make that possible, because he’s fading, it’s all fading.

 

She's on the edge of consciousness, everything becoming darker and darker, and she thinks _this is it_ when suddenly she feels something snag her and pull her, and she's being dragged against the current sideways instead of flowing with it. She gasps for air when her face reaches the surface, pulling in as much as she can with gulping breaths, coughing and wheezing as she is hauled closer and closer to shore because she needs oxygen and she can’t get enough.

 

Soon she feels her body moving against beautiful, solid ground, and she knows she's on the shore, but she can’t do much more than feel because she’s almost completely spent from the swim. She can barely get her breath under control, and her eyes and ears and nose are filled with river water, and she’s coughing on her side for what feels like forever until it subsides and her breath slowly starts to make its way down to a more normal rhythm.

 

Someone is holding her, she realizes, and as her head clears slightly more she sees Bellamy above her, as if her apparition had come true. But they’re not underwater, they’re here, breathing air, and she’s almost crushed with relief. His fingers are moving against her cheek, stroking her skin, and he's looking down into her eyes. His lips are moving, and once the roar in her ears dies down, she can hear him. 

 

"Clarke,” his voice is saying. “You’re going to be fine. You just need to rest."

 

She feels her body start to shake, vibrating with some kind of energy along the lines of _holy fucking shit, I’m alive_ , and she sits up suddenly. She’d been resting against Bellamy’s legs where he crouched against the ground, and as she sits up his hands fall away from her. She looks down at her arm, which she knows is bruised from when she got tossed against a rock by the water, and after a quick scan decides that’s the worst of her injuries, _thank god._ But she can’t quell the stab of fear that courses through her veins as the terror of what she’s just experienced rises again inside her. The river still rages beside her, the rain still falls from the sky.

 

 _You’re going to be fine,_ Bellamy’s voice echoes in her mind, and she looks around until she finds him again. He’s still crouched there, watching her, the expression on his face full of concern. She sees that he’s dripping with water, his dry suit completely soaked just like hers, and his breath quicker than normal. She sees a rope connected to his life jacket, and she looks around until she finds Marcus and Wick standing to the left, both of them watching with wide-eyed expressions on their faces. Wick is holding the other end of Bellamy’s rope, and Clarke looks down and sees that she is also attached to a rope, the other end of which is in Marcus’s hands.

 

And suddenly it all comes together, how she came to be on shore right now instead of injured or dead downstream. To get her connected to the rope that Marcus is holding, someone would have had to jump into the river and swim after her, an insanely dangerous thing to do. That level of risk is incredibly high. Unacceptably high. And there’s only one person here who would have taken that risk.

 

She gapes at Bellamy and croaks out the word "no" as she shakes her head, her breath gathering speed again. Her heart is hammering and her head is pounding as the stab of fear goes through her again, and her mind flashes until she’s under the water and terrified for her life and while she thinks she may be able to handle her own near-death experience, she knows she can’t handle his. The terror grabs for her and she can't. She can't. _She can't_.

 

"Clarke, you're okay,” he says, his eyes boring into hers as water drips from the ends of his hair. “We got you."

 

"You idiot," she says, and the tears are coming now. She cries, her body shaking and her fists pounding against his life jacket in rage because she's so _angry_ at him for risking his life like that. It turns out that fear goes well with anger, and she doesn’t know, really, where her fear ends and her anger begins, and she doesn’t care.

 

She can't breathe again, then. She coughs and coughs and he catches her fists in his hands and says, “Please, Clarke, you need to rest.”

 

She pushes him away and then pushes herself up and onto her feet until she’s standing before the three of them. Her crew. She messed up, and they saved her, because they have each other’s backs. They had all saved her. But Bellamy was the one who nearly got himself killed doing it, by putting himself in the exact same position as her.

 

"We need to get my boat," she says, ignoring the way her voice cracks, and she starts to head downstream.

 

Bellamy stands and grabs her by the arm. "Clarke, please," he says, and she looks at him and has no idea what to do with him, this man who has just saved her life. In all the years she’s known him, she’s never been so mad at him.

 

"We need to paddle out," she says. "Please. I need to just… go. Let's go."

 

He continues pleading with her to see reason, but she has her own reasoning happening and it says she needs to _go_ , so she simply turns away and begins hiking to where she thinks her boat may have washed up, hoping she finds it. She wants to get off this river and away from here as quickly as she can, because she can’t stop feeling the terror. She wants to find her paddle, too, but she knows the chances of that are slim, as it's probably pinned against a rock or a log in the water somewhere downstream. _Like where their bodies would be if this had turned out differently._ She'll have to use a breakdown paddle. This is exactly the kind of situation they’re for.

 

She finds her boat circulating in an eddy a few rapids down and she hauls it onto the shore and empties the water out of it. _You fucked up_ , she thinks to herself as she watches it pour onto the rocks, _and you put him in danger_.

 

_You're off your game and he's the one putting himself at risk._

_For you_.

 

Had the timing not worked out precisely as it had, had Bellamy been a second too late, or not swum hard enough, they both would have been swept into the next drop. They would have been seriously injured, or drowned. It's not a matter of _if_. It's as narrow a brush as Clarke has ever had with death, and she is rattled. Absolutely rattled. Because she nearly got herself killed, but also at the thought of Bellamy being right there with her when it happened. He’d been just as close to going over the edge as she had. The ropes attached to them would have done nothing against the force of that water beyond a certain point.

 

The terror spikes again and she kicks her boat in anger. The entire range of emotions she’s felt towards Bellamy in the last twenty-four hours threatens to overtake her all at once. Her mind spins with the chaos of the wanting and the mortification and the fear of the unknown and the bone-chilling terror of nearly dying and him dying with her and it’s too much. It’s too fucking much and she needs to get out of here and get away, away, _away_.

 

He comes over the hill with his own boat then and finds her as she’s crawling into the cockpit of her kayak, and she wants to scream at him, but this is neither the time nor the place, and she also has no idea what she would actually scream.

 

“There isn't too much river left,” she says numbly. “Let’s just bomb down it.”

 

“Are you sure?” he asks, his face full of concern and empathy, but she knows him, knows that he will trust her if she says she wants to do this.

 

She nods without making eye contact and then waves to Kane and Wick to follow before shoving her sprayskirt on and then pushing into the eddy.

 

The guys follow her lead, and she hates that Kane and Wick have nothing to say to her, that they’re looking at her like she’s made of glass. Her body is still reeling from the physical ramifications of her swim and she hadn’t been feeling 100% when they started anyway, so by now she’s running on fumes. She knows she has to get a grip if she’s going to get out of here in one piece, though, so she makes her way quickly down the easier rapids and gets out and walks around the bigger drops. She doesn't trust herself to run them, not in this condition, not when she’s already messed up so badly.

 

For the first time in her kayaking career, Clarke doesn't trust herself to stick her lines. The doubt combines with the rest of the storm in her mind and eats at her, and by the time they get back to the car she is consumed by it. The moment she tosses her boat into Bellamy’s truck, he’s beside her, in her space, alive and present in the way only he can be, and she can’t even look at him.

 

“Hey,” he says, and when she remains stubborn he reaches out and uses his fingers on her chin to turn her head until she has no choice to but to make eye contact with him. "Are you okay?" 

 

She stares at him until she feels her lip tremble and she shakes her head because no, she's not okay. For a million reasons she’s not okay, and he’s at the very top of the list. A sob escapes her body without her consent and before she can do anything he pulls her to him, almost violently, their life jackets bouncing off of each other until his arms wrap around her tightly and they’re as close as they can be with all their gear on. Her mind screams with fatigue and she lets herself slump against him as the sobs wrack her. Her hands grip the front of his jacket until her knuckles are white, and then she lets go and pulls back and looks at him.

 

"I'm so sorry," she says, her voice trembling.

 

"Clarke, stop it,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just thankful we got you out of there."

 

"Thank you," she whispers. "For saving me. You didn’t have to."

 

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he says, and he’s looking at her like she's crazy for questioning his choice to put himself at risk for her. She realizes in that moment that he would probably jump in front of a moving train for her. Take a bullet for her. He would do anything for her, and look at the thanks he got. Near-drowning because she fucked up.

  

"Don't," she chokes out. "Please, Bellamy. You jumped into the Raven Fork above a _death trap_ of a rapid. What the hell is wrong with you? It wasn't worth the risk!"

 

“Yes, it was,” he says insistently, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“No, it wasn’t!” she says, and she pulls her gear off because they may be off the water but she needs to get away from here, get home. “You have to promise me that you’ll never do anything that stupid again.”

 

Bellamy just shakes his head, refusing to make that promise. “It’s what we do out here, Clarke. It’s part of the game.”

 

She feels the tears threaten again, because that’s what she’s afraid of. She’s come so far, done so much, but this… this is pushing her to a place she’s never been before. This is the price. This is the consequence.

 

"Bellamy, I…” she begins, but her voice fades out, and she has no idea what to say because she has no idea what she’s really thinking or feeling. The only thing she knows for sure is that she’s in rough shape and the sooner they're out of here, the better.

 

“Clarke, are you okay?” Wick interrupts after throwing his boat in his truck, and she’s grateful for him in that moment, because she can’t hash this out any more, not here, not now.

 

“I’ll be fine,” she says, her voice feeling dry in her throat. “Thanks for… you know. Being there.”

 

“That was… that was a fucking epic swim,” he continues, and his voice is serious. Wick is never serious. If she didn’t already know how bad it was, his tone of voice would have convinced her.

 

Kane materializes next to Wick and his face is grim. “How are you feeling, Clarke?” he asks, and now she knows it’s really serious because Marcus always calls her Dr. Griffin, the formality his weird way of demonstrating their friendship.

 

“Like I’m ready for a bath and twelve hours of sleep,” she replies, trying for lightness, because they’re all looking at her like she’s a goddamn tragedy and she can’t take it any more. She heads for the cab of Bellamy’s truck so she can change.

 

She just wants to go home.

 

 

**

 

 

By the time Bellamy pulls up in front of Clarke’s place, she's been staring out the passenger side window with a glazed over look on her face, silent and exhausted, for hours. He himself is a mess inside. He's beyond worried about her, but he's not sure what to say, how to act, and by now the silence is deafening. 

 

He's also still processing his own trauma from the experience, his own fears of losing Clarke, and his understanding that yes, it _had_ been a really close call, for both of them. He’s having trouble getting a read on what she’s thinking, but she seems to be angry at him for jumping in the river and saving her. It had been risky, yes. But the truth is, he hadn’t thought about himself once during the entire ordeal. He'd never been so terrified in his life as he was when he saw Clarke come out of her boat and wash downstream towards the next rapid—and Bellamy has seen his fair share of scary shit on the water. He'd gone into autopilot as he'd shouted orders at Kane and Wick and got the ropes ready and then dove towards Clarke, swimming like hell to get to her before she got swept too far.

 

He'd reached her just in time, his arm grabbing her waist and holding on for dear life. Had he not, the consequences would have been dire. These are the consequences at this level of kayaking, he knows this, but this is _Clarke_. He would do anything to save her. She’d gathered herself and dug deep and paddled the rest of the run—she can handle a serious situation with eerie external calm—but this isn’t something that ends when they get off the river, he knows. He’d saved her from immediate danger, but he can’t save her from the demons that descend after an experience like that.

 

He's nauseous just thinking about it, even now, hours later, as they pull into her driveway. She remains silent as she gets out and starts hauling her gear out of the back of the truck, and now she’s on autopilot and he’s at a loss for how to make this better. She’s alive. That should be enough. But she’s not okay, and he wants nothing more than to make it okay for her. He just doesn’t know if she’ll let him. He gets out and grabs her boat because he knows how tired she is, and follows her into the backyard where he finds her hanging her things to dry. 

 

Her body energy exudes her desire for quiet—she’s in her own world, with no room for him, it seems—but he needs to hear her voice so the clamour inside his head will die down a bit. He doesn’t care how selfish that is. They’ve both had an awful day.

 

"Clarke," he says, his voice hoarse after hours of silence. 

 

She looks at him, finally, and she's pale and drawn, a sharp contrast to the vibrancy of the night before when she'd teemed with the energy of the earth and the sky. He’d woken up this morning with a grin on his face and a warmth in his belly that he’d quickly squashed because he’s still in the habit of not getting his hopes up, but instead of telling himself he was an idiot like usual, he’d allowed himself to acknowledge that they were finally on the precipice of something good.

 

But looking at her now, he's not so sure.

 

"Don't ask if I'm okay, because I'm not," she says quietly as her gaze drops to the stitching on her paddling top as she pins it onto the clothesline. 

 

He breathes in, out. "The rivers we run... These things, they happen."

 

And they do happen. They all know this. But that doesn’t make going through it any easier.

 

Clarke swallows. "I know. But that doesn't make me feel better about the fact that I nearly killed us both today because I’m the asshole who thought it was okay to run the shit while I was still basically drunk from the wedding. It’s not okay. I’m not okay."

 

He realizes finally that the simmering anger he’s sensed inside her is because she's been beating herself up about it, for hours. 

 

"Clarke," he says, his voice tender as his stance changes. He feels like he’s trying to navigate a maze of her emotions and any wrong turn can lead somewhere he doesn’t want either of them to be, but he has no choice but to proceed. "We both made choices out there today,” he tries. “This isn't all on you. It's scary as fuck, but we'll learn from it. We'll get through this."

 

Her lip is between her teeth, and when her eyes rise again they're wide with something he can't quite read, and wet with unshed tears. "I don’t know how,” she whispers.

 

“Don’t know how to what?” he asks as gently as he can, and he knows his heart is in his eyes and he doesn’t care.

 

She’s quiet for a moment, and then shakes her head as she says, “I need some time."

 

Before he can ask what for, the back door of the house flies open and Octavia is on the deck calling to them.

 

"Hey guys! How was it?" she asks, her face bright until she takes in their expressions.

 

Clarke blinks her tears back and rises onto her toes as she presses a light kiss to Bellamy’s cheek—which surprises him so completely that he feels like he’s frozen to the lawn—before she walks away and heads for Octavia.

 

"I swam," she says as she gets to the deck. “And it was bad. And I need a bath.” She then continues past Octavia to head inside.

 

He watches her retreating back for a moment before turning to Octavia, who looks at Bellamy questioningly where he’s still standing in the yard. 

 

"It was bad," he says simply, because he needs to tell Octavia the full story and he's not looking forward to that. It's a scary story, and Octavia loves them both. It's going to upset her. 

 

"Is she okay?" Octavia asks. “I’ve never seen her like that before.”

 

Bellamy doesn't answer right away. Octavia is right. They’ve seen Clarke upset, but never like this.

 

"Bell?" Octavia pushes.

 

"Do you have something I can eat?” he asks, finally walking toward her. “We should sit down. I'll tell you what happened." 

 

Octavia is as upset by the story as he expects her to be. After he eats, he tries to wait for Clarke to re-emerge, but she seems to have locked herself in the bathroom. Octavia knocks and goes in to check on her, and when she comes back out after a while she has a sad look on her face.

 

A sad look that also manages to shoot daggers. “You moron!” she says. “I’m glad you saved Clarke and everything, but you didn’t tell me that it almost got you killed, too.”

 

Ah. So she’s heard the story from Clarke’s point of view.

 

“I did what I had to do,” he says, and it’s obvious, really, that he would do this for Clarke, he doesn’t understand why everyone else keeps giving him shit for it.

 

“You big, stupid, lovestruck idiot,” Octavia continues, and she shakes her head.

 

He hates the pity in her eyes. Yeah. He’s a big, stupid, lovestruck idiot. This is not news to him. He would still jump in that river a thousand times over.

 

“What else did she say?” he can’t help but asking.

 

Octavia sighs. “Well, she’s soaking in the bath and being super hard on herself about it. She’s seriously freaked.”

 

He knows this, but his heart sinks as he hears it.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says. “I tried talking to her, but it didn’t work very well.”

 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Octavia says. “She’s exhausted, and she went through a traumatic experience today. It’s probably best to let her get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow she’ll be ready to talk.”

 

She isn’t. He works all day, pretending like he isn’t checking his phone every other minute to see if she’s texted or called, but he hears nothing. By the time evening rolls around he gets impatient and checks the Green to see if it’s running the next morning. It is. Normally in this situation, he would call or text Clarke and see if she wants to meet for dawn patrol. It’s as good an excuse as any.

 

He calls her because he needs to hear her voice.

 

“Hi,” she says quietly when she picks up.

 

“Hi,” he says back, and then they fall silent. Great. More of that. “The Green’s running tomorrow if you want to do dawn patrol,” he stumbles out after he can’t handle it any longer.

 

Clarke remains quiet for a moment before she says, “I think I need a break from kayaking.”

 

His heart deflates.

 

“Yeah?” he asks, working to hide the worry in his voice.

 

“Yeah,” she replies quietly.

 

“How are you feeling today?”

 

“Hmm,” she says, not really answering his question.

 

He hates this. This is Clarke. The person he cares about in ways he didn’t know it was possible to care about another person, the person he used to be able to say anything to, and he can’t figure out how to do this, how to make this better. He should have grabbed her and kissed her after he pulled her out of that river and hauled her home and made love to her all night, refusing to let her be sad and angry, refusing to let her suffer. But as soon as he thinks that, he’s filled with frustration at his own selfishness, and then suddenly, finally, the last piece of denial falls away.

 

He’s in love with her. _Let’s just call it what it is,_ he thinks. Watching someone almost die has a way of bringing out the truth. This is love. And it fucking _hurts_.

 

“Clarke,” he says, his voice low, sounding strange to his ears. “If you need anything, you’ll let me know, right?”

 

“Of course,” she says after a moment.  

 

He hopes like hell she means it.

 

 

**

 

 

Clarke tells Bellamy that she needs time, that she needs a break from kayaking, and because it's Bellamy, he seems to get that without her having to explain it to him, and he doesn’t push her. Which is good, because she's not sure she can even explain it to herself. 

 

It's a jumble of things. She's lost her confidence, that's for sure. And she's also freaked out by the danger she put herself in, and Bellamy with her. She knows her river safety skills, knows that missed lines happen, knows that she—they—got lucky. But the whole situation has her looking back on her lifetime of kayaking, thinking about the risks she's taken. She thinks about the stories she’s heard of other paddlers who haven’t been as lucky—and in a sport like this, that number is uncomfortably high. She can’t stop thinking about what might have happened.  

 

So she needs time. Time to process the fear, time to meditate on the entire situation, time to think about why she does what she does. Why the water drives her. Why she takes the risks. She loves the problem solving of kayaking. She loves the thrill. She loves the companionship. But the stakes are high, and she's disappointed in herself for getting so complacent, for not being more careful... the list goes on and on.

 

She needs time away from Bellamy, too, she realizes. After the wedding, she'd had no time to deal with what she'd drunkenly been stumbling towards with him that night—with what she'd been working up the nerve to admit to herself she wanted—before she was dealing with the near-disaster on the Raven Fork, and it's all too much for her. She needs to be away from the water, away from him, to sort out her feelings. They’ve gotten so close over the past year, it’s hard for her to see their relationship in a clear light. He'd been acting distant lately anyway, and then this had happened, so maybe the time is right to take the space to think.

 

Clarke starts running. She has an energy she needs to burn that she usually channels into kayaking, and without kayaking she becomes restless, so her solution is the trails of the national forest near Arkville. She's always enjoyed trail running and has gotten to know the trails from her friends since moving to town—Anya and Monroe are especially into running—so she heads for the trailhead one morning before work and just starts going.

 

She relishes the solitude of running through the woods. There's a particular kind of thinking that comes with running. The exertion doesn't allow one to ruminate on things too long, but one can grinds through thoughts with each footstep in a way that sweats out the excess. The farther she goes, the more she can grind through. She goes in the mornings before work, or after, and on weekends she goes for hours, with a little running pack containing water and food so she can be out there for an extended period of time. She runs and her legs are sore and she falls into bed every night and sleeps like a log, and it’s exactly what she needs.

 

"So, how’s the backwoods marathoning going?" Octavia asks her one night at dinner about a month after her swim on the Raven Fork.

 

"Ha ha," Clarke replies. "It’s good.”

 

"Seriously Clarke, you're crazy," Octavia says. "Don’t you know how to do anything with, like, normal amounts of human effort? You’re a kayaking machine, a running machine..."

 

"Speaking of,” Raven interjects. “When _are_ you going to kayak again?"

 

Octavia shoots Raven a warning look. They’ve talked about the incident enough that both of her roommates know she’s taking a break and why she needs it, but Octavia still seems rather protective of her. Which is sweet, but unnecessary.

 

Clarke waves it off. "It's fine, O. I'm not sure. The river isn't going anywhere."

 

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but this year's snowmelt on the Middle Kings is," Raven says.

 

Clarke freezes where she’s washing dishes in the kitchen, her stomach lurching slightly at the mention of the Middle Fork of the Kings—which everyone refers to as the Middle Kings. "What?" she asks, trying to play it cool as she starts scrubbing a plate again.

 

"Bellamy didn't tell you?” Raven says, a look of confusion on her face. “He and Wick have been watching the gauge on that thing like hawks. They think it's going to go in the next few weeks. They're getting their gear ready to throw in the truck as soon as it hits a certain level."

 

Bellamy hadn't told her. She's not surprised, given that she'd told him she needed a break from kayaking after the accident, and he hasn't pushed her the entire time. But this mention of the Middle Kings is like a punch in her gut because it no longer lets her live in the comfortable world of denial she’s built over the last month, where kayaking is something that will happen again eventually, but she doesn’t really have to worry about it. She'd let their tentative plans to run the Middle Kings fade into the back of her mind because it was easier that way. She'd been so looking forward to it, to all of it. The kayaking of course, but also seeing her parents, and the road trip across the country with her crew. 

 

And Bellamy. Her heart slams around a little as Raven's words have her jumping back to some of their conversations about the trip. The feeling she’d had on the Linville when he’d talked about a little bird telling him she dreamed of running the Kings someday and that little bird being ready. He’d remembered a conversation they’d had _years_ ago, and then offered to help her make that dream come true. That was right around the time things had gotten weird between them, she knows now after reflecting on it for a while. She’s had a month to think about it, and she’s still pretty confused, and things with Bellamy are still weird. But that doesn’t make her want to run the Middle Kings any less.

 

She spends a lot of time that night thinking it over. If she doesn't go this year, will she go in the future? She hasn’t been kayaking for a month—will she be ready? Clarke has been keeping up with her pull-ups and other exercises along with the running, so she know she’s still in good shape, and she thinks she’d be fine, although she’ll need to get out on the Green beforehand to tune things up. She’d had nightmares for the first week or so after her swim, but they had faded, and she knows now she hasn’t developed a fear of the water like some people do after a bad swim.

 

She stews over it until she goes to bed, and by the time she's getting under the covers she knows what she wants. She wants to go, but before she tells the guys, she needs to get back on the water first to make sure she's still got it. She pulls out her phone to call Anya.

  

The next morning, Anya meets her at the takeout for the Green at 6am and wastes no time getting to the point. Anya has zero tolerance for bullshit. But she's also Clarke's friend, so Clarke know this paddle will be filled with straightforward conversation which, honestly, she needs if she’s going to be on the water again.

 

"So this is your first time back in a kayak since your swim," Anya says as they run shuttle, more of a statement than a question.

 

"Yes," Clarke says.

 

"Why'd you call me and not one of the guys?" Anya asks.

 

Clarke is quiet for a while, before she says, "I don't want them to see me if I'm shaky on the water."

 

"And you're afraid you'll be shaky today?"

 

"I don't know," Clarke says. "It's only been a month, it's not like I've forgotten how to paddle. But I need to get this initial run out of the way first before I really know where things stand."

 

They fall silent for a while again, and Clarke knows this is how it is with Anya sometimes. She doesn’t waste time on small talk. She likes this about her friend, although it had taken time to get used to when they first got to know each other. They remain quiet until they are about to put on the water and Anya looks at Clarke.

 

"I had a bad swim once on a river out in Colorado," she says. "It scared the hell out of me."

  

"Did you get back in your boat right away?" Clarke asks.

 

Anya nods. "I did. I had to."

 

Of course she did. Anya was tough as nails. A little brush with death wouldn't slow her down. 

 

“But I sure as hell didn’t get back on the Green for my first run,” Anya continues. “I refused to run anything harder than class III for months. We all process the scary stuff in our own ways.”

 

"I needed to get away for a bit," Clarke says, and Anya nods in acceptance. She gets it.

 

They start heading downstream, and Clarke wiggles her hips to get the feel for her boat on the water again. The minute she pulls on the first stroke with her paddle, her arm and torso muscles sing and everything around her seems to flow into her energy—the water, the summer air, the sounds of the birds and the insects. It’s good. Really good. She’d still been a tiny bit afraid that she might freak out, being back on the water, and it’s nice to put that fear to rest.

 

"Are you feeling shaky?" Anya asks as they get staged about the first major rapid. 

 

Clarke breathes in and out, looks around her. "No," she says, a small, hopeful smile on her face. "I'm not."

 

Anya nods. "Then the time away did you some good."

 

They run Frankenstein and Clarke feels a rush as she pulls on the boof stroke needed to complete the line, and when she lands, she laughs and gives a shout of joy because she’s so happy. It’s like the Green has been waiting for her to heal, and is welcoming her back to the fold. 

 

"How did that feel?" Anya asks in the eddy below.

 

"Great," Clarke says, grinning. "Solid." Which is exactly where she needs to be.

 

They continue on down, and Clarke feels butterflies above Gorilla. _Trust,_ she thinks to herself. It’s hard, but she has to do it. She can only do this if she trusts herself. She squares her shoulders and takes the hard line, and she nails it, rushing straight into the rapids below with Anya right behind her. Their eyes meet and Anya gives one of her rare smiles, and Clarke knows she made the right choice of paddling companion for this.

 

The rest of the run goes well, and the two women high five in the parking lot at the takeout. 

 

"Looks like you're going to be alright, Griffin," Anya says.

 

"Thanks for being here for me," Clarke says. "For some reason I feel like you just... get this kind of thing more than the boys."

 

Anya laughs. "That's not saying much, given that bone-headed bunch. You going to run the Middle Kings with them or what?"

 

Clarke sighs. "I'm hoping to. I haven't talked to them about it yet. That's my next stop, actually."

 

Because it’s time. She knows that now, after successfully running the Green. She needs to see Bellamy. It’s not that she hasn’t seen him at all lately, it’s just been much less than usual because she isn’t out on the water with him all the time. And the weirdness, the distance that she hates but doesn’t know how to remedy—Clarke can’t help but feel like maybe this Middle Kings trip, if she goes, could be the thing that’s going to force her to deal with it all, maybe force both of them to open up to each other again. Because he’s been closed off, and she’s closed herself off, and it doesn’t feel right. It’s not them.

 

So she feels butterflies for the second time that day, because if she ends up going, between the road trip and the river expedition they’ll be together almost constantly. There will be nowhere to hide from him, or from herself. Facing her real feelings for Bellamy—and after a month of rumination, there’s no more denying that they are _feelings_ feelings, even if she can’t quite articulate them yet—is going to require just as much bravery as running this river.

 

By the time she leaves the parking lot, she’s gotten Bellamy's new job site address from Octavia, and she decides to head straight there. She cranks Ryan Adams’ “To Be Young,” which has been a bit of an anthem for her lately, and promises herself she’ll be brave about all of this. She’s got this. Butterflies or not, she doesn't have time to waste now.

 

 

**

 

 

Bellamy thinks he's imagining things at first when he sees Clarke marching down the driveway of the lot where they're getting ready to start framing a house, the company's next big project. She's in her running shorts and sandals and her legs are toned and brown, from her time on the trails, he supposes, but again, imagination? Is that you? That's one thing about kayaking—your legs stay pretty pasty white if you do I all the time. And Clarke hasn’t been kayaking.

 

Bellamy has seen her a few times since her swim, but not that many. She said she needed time, and he respects that. He wants to give her that. He would give her anything, because he loves her. Yeah, that’s been a fun thing to chew on for the past month. _Not_. You respect the choices of the ones you love, in his book, but this makes his own life fairly painful, because he _misses her_. He misses her so much. But there's nothing he can do about it. So he hasn't been dwelling and he hasn't been pushing, either. He’s being the perfect, respectful, space-giving friend. It just fucking sucks, is all.

 

So he's pretty sure he's imagining Clarke, because he while he is giving her space, he also thinks about her often enough that he wouldn't be surprised if his brain was playing tricks on him just to be an asshole. Summer heat and everything, there are plenty of factors to blame here.

 

He knows it's really her, finally, when she stops in front of him and he spies the strap of her bikini peeking out from under her tank top and he can practically smell the river on her. Here she is, in her purest form, and yes, those tanned legs are real, thank you very much. He just stares mutely because it’s going to take a little while for his tongue to catch up to his brain. Not that his brain is in any great shape.

 

"Hey," she says, and she's glowing, he thinks, in a way he hasn't seen in a long time. It's the glow she gets from being on the water.

 

"Hey," he says when he finally can, and he can't hide the wonder in his voice that she's here. And coming from the river, apparently.

 

"I ran the Green this morning," she says. 

 

"I can see that," he replies, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out and touches the end of her still-wet hair briefly in explanation when she looks at him questioningly.

 

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry I didn't call you," she says. "I went with Anya. I..."

 

"It's okay," he says, ignoring a tiny stab of hurt as he draws his hand back.

 

"I needed to see if I felt solid," she says. "Because I want to go to California with you."

 

He just stares again because tongue, brain, etc. are still not fully functional at the moment. So she's heard. He's not surprised. He'd been meaning to tell her eventually, but he hadn't been sure how. Say something like _So, I know you aren't really kayaking right now, but remember that trip we were dreaming up together? Well, we have to leave soon if we want to make the window?_

 

Yeah, no. He hasn't had a real conversation with Clarke in over a month beyond chatting about work and mutual friends when he’s come by for the occasional dinner, or when she texts him when the Braves are losing, and he's miserable about it. He and the guys have been planning and he’s been avoiding telling her because he doesn’t want to push her, but it was only a matter of time before she figured it out on her own. Clarke’s the smartest person he knows, and Wick is the least discreet person he knows, and Clarke lives with Raven. It was going to come to this eventually.

 

And she wants to go with them. The relief pooling inside him tells him how terrified he actually was that she would say no to the trip. Say no to all that they’d been working towards, and, in a connected way, no to him.

 

"You heard," he says.

 

"You really think Wick can keep his mouth shut?" she jokes, echoing his own thoughts.

 

"I was going to tell you," he continues, but she holds up a hand to stop him.

 

"I've been running, so I'm in good shape for the hike over Bishop Pass," she says, buzzing with energy. "And I ran the Green this morning and felt good, focused. I swear, Bellamy, I'm ready for this."

 

He's confused for a second until he realizes that she's buzzing because she’s trying to prove herself to him. She’s afraid he'll say no.

 

"Oh my god, Clarke,” he says. “If you think you’re ready, then I _know_ you’re ready. Did you think I'd say no?" 

 

Her shoulders loosen in relief as she lets out a breath, and then she shrugs. "I don't know, maybe? I haven't been kayaking, and after the way I fucked up on the Raven Fork, I didn't know what you guys were—"

 

"Stop," he says. "Stop it right now.” And he can’t hold out any longer, and finally lets himself reach out and pull her in for a hug. His cheek rests against her hair for a moment and he prays it’s low-key enough to go unnoticed but oh my god, just holding her again has him feeling better than he has in weeks. “You had a bad swim. We all have, okay? You're still one of the best kayakers I know."

 

“Thanks,” she says against his shoulder, and she’s blushing a little when they pull apart and wow, has he missed _that_. She looks down, though, and he knows there's something there that she's not revealing to him. They haven't really talked about the swim since it happened, and he knows they need to, but that’s another thing he’s not sure how to talk about.

 

"So I'm in?" she asks, a smile returning to her face as she meets his eyes again.

 

"You're in," he says, and he can't keep his own smile contained.

 

"Who else is in?" 

 

"Miller, Wick, Kane… we’re all ready to go. One of Kane’s old paddling buddies who lives out there might join us. With you, we'd have the full crew."

 

She looks away again. "Have you been paddling much?"

 

He shrugs. "A fair amount. Not much dawn patrol, though. It's tough to motivate anybody else."

 

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "For being M.I.A."

 

"You have nothing to apologize for, Clarke,” he says. “You needed time. I get that."

 

She looks at him gratefully. He wants to tell her he missed her, but he holds back the words, because that's another thing they haven't talked about. That crazy conversation that started in a thunderstorm, that had been the beginning of the breaking point for them, he thinks, after a month of contemplating it more often than is healthy, surely. He’s gotten really good at cursing the gods of timing lately.

 

"So what's the plan?" she asks, and the clouds are gone from her eyes. She’s in mission-planning mode now. His kayaking partner is back. His heart swells.

 

"We've been watching the temperatures, the forecast, the gauge,” he says. “It's close. If it stays steady, we should be on the road no later than the end of this week."

 

"Would you guys still be cool with stopping at my parents’ place after?”

 

"If they'll have us," Bellamy says. “You have no idea how much you’ll be craving a shower and a home-cooked meal after we finish the expedition.”

 

"Oh, they’ll have us," Clarke says, laughing. "I mentioned the possibility to my dad a few months ago and he was so excited about the prospect of meeting you guys, you have no idea.”

 

Bellamy smiles. “Well, I hope that makes him more charitable when his house is overrun by a pack of smelly boaters who’ve been living out of their trucks and kayaks for a week.”

 

“Boaters who have just run the Middle Kings, mind you. To him, that’s like hosting royalty,” Clarke says, and then its like he can see the gears working in her head, the planning beginning in earnest. “Okay,” she says, and her gaze locks onto his, intense and excited. “We're doing this."

 

She's beaming now, the reality of it setting in, and he's still basking in the relief of having her back like this, smiling and ready for an adventure. It won’t be easy. The Middle Kings is one of the toughest multi-day kayaking expeditions in North America, and it will push them to limits they’ve never faced here in the southeast. Bellamy has run it twice, and both times it took all of his grit and determination. But the payoff is worth it. It’s unquestionably one of the most beautiful runs in the world, and the experience is like nothing else. Clarke has been working towards this for a long time—they both have—and now, finally, it’s happening.

 

"We’re doing this,” he agrees, and he beams right back. Because he loves her, and they’re doing this together, and he can’t help but hope that somehow this expedition will give them the chance to finally figure out what they are to each other. He doesn’t know yet when or how that might happen, but the feeling in his gut tells him this is it.

 

_Here goes nothing._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this wasn't easy to write! But the next chapter will contain--spoiler alert, not sorry--the GOOD STUFF, I PROMISE. Bear with me? If you still can after reading 50k+ of two idiots overthinking their feelings? 
> 
> This is the song Clarke blasts towards the end as she drives off to find Bellamy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_c1YM53Wwo
> 
> And here's "The O.C." theme song because we're going to California, bitches!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEpqlgAlvA8


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the GOOD STUFF! 
> 
> Rating has changed to E. No, you're blushing.
> 
> Come see the gorgeous artwork for this chapter by ringmybellamy on Tumblr: http://tacosandflowers.tumblr.com/post/120509952572/chapter-8-the-odds-are-good

Every summer, kayakers across North America make their way to the high Sierra mountains of California. They make this pilgrimage because the geology and the weather of that particular region make it home to a special combination of two things: granite rock formations and snowmelt. The granite domes and slabs have evolved over time into receptacles for the melting snow as it comes off the mountains, and in the summer, the flow of water from the snowmelt in certain river basins hits the perfect levels.

 

Running these rivers is no easy feat. Most of them are in remote locations, far from the nearest road, and require hiking boats and gear over miles of steep trails just to get to the put-in. They are mostly multi-day trips, so paddlers must carry their camping gear and food in their back of their boats in addition to the usual safety gear. This type of expedition kayaking requires planning and commitment, but to the people who drive for days in a row to get there, the rivers are worth it.

 

After Clarke finds Bellamy at the job site and tells him she wants to go, they all start planning their own pilgrimage with precision. Every night for three nights, she and Bellamy meet up with Miller, Wick, and Kane to go over everything and get their logistics in order. In spite of Wick’s insistence on singing the chorus of _The O.C._ theme song—“Californiaaaaaa, here we cooooooome”—over and over again as they plan, there is a gravity to the process. All of the men have done this before, but that doesn’t make them take it any less seriously than Clarke.

 

She relishes the learning experience of it all. Doing these kinds of expeditions has been a goal of hers since she was a kid, really, and now that it’s happening she wants to make sure she does it right. They need to figure out gear, food, driving and shuttle logistics, wilderness permits… the list goes on, but they go through it all patiently and with care. She loves working with this team of people, where they each fall into their roles that compliment each other so well.

 

Kane is the old guard expert whose ideas get challenged from time to time, but who keeps them on track with his experience (and his motives to film the trip, because it’s going to make great footage for his videos). Miller is the quiet one who works hard to make sure they have everything they need, the little things that other people might forget. Wick is the jokester, naturally, but he’s also a brilliant strategist, with more technical knowledge of the high Sierra whitewater than the rest of them that is crucial to doing this right.

 

And at the helm of the group and the whole trip are Clarke and Bellamy. This has been their project from the start. Clarke’s drive had sparked it the previous fall, and Bellamy has been by her side the whole time. They’ve worked together for the love of the water and the dream of running the toughest rivers, with the Middle Kings being the ultimate goal. It’s almost surreal, now that it’s finally happening.

 

Well, it will happen, once they get there. They have a long way to go from North Carolina to California. The plan is to bring two trucks—Bellamy’s and Kane’s—and drive non-stop from Arkville to the put-in for the Middle Kings. This is standard practice. They have enough drivers that they can take shifts, sleeping when they’re not driving, and make it there as fast as they can. Time is everything now. Rivers fed by snowmelt don’t come back up with rain. Once the levels drop, they’re gone. So there’s no point in wasting any time if they don’t have to.

 

They leave at dawn on a Friday. Bellamy had put the cap on his truck—which now says “Blake & Miller Construction” on the side, to reflect the new business partnership—and they loaded their gear the night before, with everything evenly split between the two trucks so there’s space for everyone’s things and for people to sleep when they need. Clarke jumps in the shotgun seat of Bellamy’s truck and pops her DollyWood mug into the cup holder right next to his Stonehenge mug, and it feels exactly right to be starting the mission off like this, the way they always start their kayaking days.

 

“You ready for your first Cali expedition, Griffin?” he asks with a smile as they pull away from the house and onto the highway with Miller sound asleep already in the back seat.

 

Clarke smiles back. “Yep,” she says. “So ready. I can’t believe we’re actually going.”

 

Bellamy looks out at the road. “I can,” he says.

 

“Yeah?” she asks, because he looks thoughtful, and she’s curious. This is the first time she’s had with him in the truck in a while, and she’s looking forward to seeing if they can get back to the easy driving conversations they’d been so good at before… everything.

 

“Yeah,” he says as he pulls onto the highway. “You’re a goal-setter, Clarke. I probably don’t need to say this because it’s so obvious, but you put your mind to this last year and now you’re pulling it off. That’s badass.”

 

“You’re pulling it off with me,” she says, because he’s making it sound like it’s all her, and it’s not. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

Bellamy looks over at her like he’s might say something, but then he doesn’t. He always clams up a little when she tries to make him to accept recognition for things.

 

“And besides,” she continues, “Maybe we shouldn’t say we’ve pulled it off until we’ve actually successfully run the river.”

 

“Good point,” he shrugs. “Although I have full confidence that we will.”

 

Bellamy has done this before, so she knows that he knows what he’s talking about. “What was your first trip to California like?” she asks, because she can’t help but be curious about younger Bellamy, and what it was like for him when he first embarked on this journey.

 

He lets out a laugh, his face amused as he remembers. “Oh god. Way less organized than this one, _for sure_. I was nineteen, barely, just a cocky piece of shit, really. I’d been running around paddling everything I could in the southeast, just high on it all, you know? And when I heard Kane was going to California that summer, I went right up to him one night at a party when I was drunk and told him he was taking me with him whether he liked it or not, and Miller, too. I can’t believe he was stupid enough to say yes.”

 

Clarke is laughing, because she can totally see this happening.

 

“So he said yes, but on the condition that we run, like, six other rivers with him while we were out there, because he was trying to hit all of these creeks in a certain window. And you know how it is when you kayak a lot and you just get beat down and tired if you don’t rest every once in a while? Well, we were on the steepest shit ever, hiking all over the place and running the scariest rapids we’d ever seen, day in and day out, for _weeks_ in a row. We were so tired by the end we could barely see straight.”

 

Clarke stretches her muscles, imagining the fatigue. “At what point in the trip did you run the Middle Kings?” she asks.

 

“Towards the end,” he says. “We were tired, for sure, but once we got into that river canyon, it was like all of that was forgotten. It’s one of the most magical places I’ve ever been, in the world. I can’t even describe it to you. You’ll get to see it for yourself pretty soon.”

 

“I can’t wait,” Clarke says, drawn in by the look on his face as he describes it.

 

“Unfortunately, you have over forty hours to wait,” Bellamy replies. “It’s part of the experience, but the driving part sucks. Trust me.”

 

It does get monotonous. Clarke doesn’t mind terribly much, though, since she’s filled with anticipation for what they’re heading towards. While Wick may have a fondness for _The O.C._ song, she can’t get Led Zeppelin’s “Going to California” out of her head, a song that’s taken on new meaning for her as an adult living away from home. _Going to California with an aching in my heart_ , she thinks. Goddamn literal lyrics.

 

They cycle through drivers as planned. Clarke gets a shift driving across the plains in the dead of night and then gets used to the feeling of dozing in the back trying to catch up on sleep. Each driver gets to pick what they want to listen to, and luckily the three of them have fairly similar tastes so it’s pretty straightforward and nobody’s ears are bleeding (Miller shyly asks Clarke if she has _1989_ on her phone while Bellamy is sleeping, and it turns into a real bonding moment). It’s like this until they get to New Mexico, at which point Bellamy decides that since he’s driving and they’re near Los Alamos, they’re going to listen to _The Feynman Lectures on Physics_ , of which he apparently owns a recording. Clarke wakes up from her sleepy state to comment.

 

“You’re a closet physics nerd too?” she asks as Miller groans when Feynman’s voice starts explaining mechanics to them through the speakers of the truck stereo. “I thought your interest in the Manhattan Project was purely historical.”

 

“He’s a closet everything nerd. You should know that by now, Clarke,” Miller says. “At least this isn’t as bad as the year he made us listen to _The Brothers Karamazov_ on tape on the way to B.C.”

 

Clarke can’t help but laugh as Bellamy’s face gets calmly defensive like it always does when they tease him about what Octavia refers to as his “grandpa hobbies.”

 

“First of all, in addition to his involvement in the Manhattan Project, Richard Feynman was one of the greatest scientific lecturers of all time, and one does not need to be a quote-unquote _physics nerd_ to learn something from him,” he says. “And second of all, _Nathan_ , if I remember correctly, it was your husband who thanked me after the fact for introducing some culture into your life by making you listen to that book, which you quoted on your first date with him. Which, by the way, is one of the all-time greatest literary masterpieces. You’re welcome.”

 

Clarke lies back down and falls back asleep with a smile on her face. She’s missed this.

 

 

**

 

 

By the time they reach California, they’re all restless and excited, but they still have a fair amount of driving to do. Their first destination is the take-out, where they meet up with Kane’s old paddling buddy, Tom Jackson, who lives further north and drove down. They get all of their gear into two of the vehicles and leave a third one there, and then start the drive to the put-in, which is another eight hours away, because the mountain range they’ll be paddling through is so huge that they have to drive all the way around it to get to where they need to be.

 

Bellamy watches Clarke’s face brighten as they get closer to the put-in, and he suspects a big part of it is because they’re near the place where she grew up. She has the window down, her hair blowing in the breeze as she inhales the scent of the pine trees and the clean mountain air. This is Clarke on her home turf, this part of California, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness. When she turns and smiles at him, he is thankful for the millionth time that he gets to experience this with her.

 

By the time they get to the put-in, it’s a few hours before dawn, and they all take the opportunity to grab a few hours of sleep before they start the hike to the put-in. This rest is much needed, because the hike is a total of twelve miles up and over Bishop Pass, reaching a height of nearly 12,000 feet, and it’s going to take them all day with their gear-filled kayaks on their backs. And then once they reach the put-in, they’ll still have a few miles of paddling to do before they reach their campsite.

 

So it’s a big day. They’ve been training for this, and carrying their boats in and out of rivers back east, too, but nothing really prepares you for the weight of a kayak full of gear for four nights. Clarke is probably the most prepared, thanks to her running, Bellamy thinks as he follows her up the trail, her toned legs methodically stepping beneath the blazing green of her kayak, and he’s not wrong. The hike is grueling, but she takes it on like it’s just another stroll in the woods.

 

Although it’s definitely not just that. The scenery on the hike is incredible. They’re high in the mountains now, with huge, snow-capped granite peaks rising all around them. They hike through pristine meadows and up into a vast boulder field that looks like it could be a scene from the surface of the moon if it weren’t for the trees down in the distance. After hours in the boulder field, they’re hiking on the last of this year’s snowpack, the melt of which is currently fuelling the river they’re about to run.

 

Once they’re up and over the snowy pass, it’s a few more miles of long switchbacks down to the river, so while they’re tired, for sure, they’re also charged by the excitement of being so close to the put-in. Once there, they take stock and make sure everyone is ready, and then it’s time to finally launch onto the Middle Kings.

 

The first few miles of the river is what’s known as “mank”—shallow class III-IV with lots of rocks and logs to get around—that has to be run in order to get to the good stuff. They make their way down with purpose, because they all want to get to their campsite, get some food in their bodies, and get some sleep before tomorrow, when the real action starts.

 

Camping here happens completely under the stars, with nothing but their sleeping pads and sleeping bags. Bellamy notices that Clarke has taken his advice and acquired a small camping pillow just like his, which she sets up with her bedroll next to his as they settle down for the night. There’s no privacy at this camp site, which is really just a slab of granite next to the water, and they haven’t had any privacy the entire trip so far, so it’s not like anything is going to happen. But sleeping next to her has his heart fluttering because they’re here. They’re actually, finally here, in the canyon together, on the Middle Kings river, like they’ve been dreaming of for so long.

 

“Does it feel real yet?” he asks her as they fall asleep.

 

“Yes,” she says, and she turns over in her sleeping bag so he can see her smile. She looks tired and excited at the same time. “It does.”

 

The next day starts off with the first major rapid, a 15-foot waterfall of crystal blue water flowing over a granite ledge, and it starts everything off right. This leads them into a series of boulder drops and then to a massive slide, similar to the ones they’d paddled on the Toxaway, except this is the real California deal. Kane films them all as they run the drop and the enthusiasm is high.

 

Clarke’s blood is rushing after the slide, but she calms herself down to focus as they get into a series of gorges that are going to take time to get through. The river changes every year with spring floods, so even those who have been here before need to get out and scout, and certain things are simply going to be unrunnable, which requires portaging along a narrow trail.

 

This is the tough, problem-solving aspect of kayaking that Clarke loves. Her love for it doesn’t make it easy, though. Looking at each drop and deciding whether or not to run it takes a lot of thought and careful consideration, as well as hiking along scrambly rock surfaces. The last time she did this kind of technical decision-making, it had been on the Raven Fork, and she feels a flutter of fear in her stomach as remembers her swim there. She’s worked through this in her head, knows she can’t afford to let herself get freaked out. And so she digs down deep, gets brave, and makes it happen.

 

She does this by working closely with Bellamy. The whole group converges to discuss the each rapid they scout, but the two of them have an unspoken language between them, a way of communicating with looks and reading one another’s body language that is one of the reasons they work so well together on the water. And much to Clarke’s relief, they still have this language between them, even after months of not using it. By the time they get to their campsite in a beautiful meadow at the end of the day, Clarke feels like she’s glowing inside, because of the thrill of the water and because it’s still there. The language, and the bond, and the shared joy of running class V together.

 

The third day is long. It’s not quite as technically challenging as the day before, but it requires constant vigilance as they run through miles and miles of boulder drops. Everyone is eager to get to camp, because the next day will bring the hardest day of whitewater on the river—which is also arguably the hardest day of whitewater in the entire country—and it will take all of their energy and concentration to get through it safely. It’s known as the “Bottom Nine,” because it’s the last nine miles of the Middle Fork before it joins the flow of the main Kings River.

 

Before they get to camp, they have the biggest runnable drop on the river to run first. It’s called Big Bad Beaver Slide, and when they scout it, it looks good, although the scale—and the hole at the bottom—make Clarke’s nerves churn. It’s the end of a long day, and they’re all feeling it after two full days of non-stop, class V kayaking. She pulls on all of her energy and lines everything up right, but sometimes even the right lines lead to sticky parts of holes, and she gets flipped at the bottom.

 

Her fear spikes, because the last time this happened, she ended up swimming and it was a nightmare. So she tells herself to remain calm, and thinks that while this is her first time upside down on this run, both Miller and Wick had gotten flipped on other rapids so far and they ended up fine. A little bruised and waterlogged, maybe, but fine. It happens to everyone. The hole kicks her around a bit until she finds a moment of calm in which to roll up. She makes it upright, and almost paddles out, but then the edge of her boat gets caught and she flips again.

 

 _Trust_ , she thinks as the water swirls around her, and she taps into herself, and into the river, and resists the urge to swim. But the flashes keep coming, the fear, and she can’t shake it. _It doesn’t have to be like last time_ ,she screams at herself, and only after a back and forth in her mind is she able to stay calm. She waits for the brief window of less intense water again and seizes on it, and this time when she flips up, she reaches for the edge of the hole and pulls like hell, over and over again with her paddle, feeling like Sisyphis until her boat finally slips free of the force of the water and she’s floating downstream, breath heaving, relief crashing down around her.

 

Her heart is hammering in her chest like it might end up in her throat, and she is breathing heavily as she slides into the eddy next to Bellamy, who is looking at her with a worried expression on his face. So he’s made the connection in his head, too, about the direction that could have gone in.

 

“You good?” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” she says, although her uneven breath betrays her. She swallows in order to pull some of her emotions back down.

 

“We’re almost to camp,” he says. “You can see Tehipite Dome coming up. That’s where we’re staying tonight.”

 

Tehipite Dome is a massive granite feature that rises above the river valley, its gray face reflecting the sunlight now and the moonlight later. The campsite at the base of Tehipite Dome is one of the most stunningly beautiful places a person can sleep outside. Clarke has seen photos and videos of it, sure, but nothing prepares her for seeing it in person.

 

 _This is it,_ she thinks as they set up camp. This is what it’s like, to run the Middle Kings. They’re in the middle of the expedition. She’s been living out of Bellamy’s truck and her kayak for over five days. Every part of her body is sore. She’s tired from the constant paddling, from sleeping on the ground. She has bug bites and scratches on her legs from rocks and plants, sunburn on her arms and cheeks. The paddling has already been the most challenging of her life, and they still have two more days of paddling ahead of them that will be even more challenging. The most challenging, really. It’s hard. It’s harder than she ever thought it could be.

 

She’s quiet at dinner as her mind wanders back to her experience in the hole earlier, and how she’d gotten properly worked before making her way out. It had felt too close for comfort, and yet she knows she needs to be able to handle that kind of thing if she’s going to continue kayaking at this level. They have more river to run tomorrow, undoubtedly more holes, and if she freaks every time she flips, she’s not going to be of much use. Had she swum today, the consequences wouldn’t have been that bad, because there was a pool at the bottom of the drop. If she swims tomorrow, she won’t be as lucky.

 

She decides to take a walk along the water after dinner. She loves her crew—Kane’s friend Jackson has been a great addition, because not only is he a nurse and they can talk medicine, he also happens to know Clarke’s dad from kayaking and her mom from work, so they have things to talk about—but they’ve all been with each other constantly for days now. Even the best of friends go a little crazy after being around each other for that long. This is the first place they’ve stopped that has enough room for her to get away for a little bit, and she takes the chance when she sees it. If she’s going to be moody about things she’d rather do it alone.

 

She walks until she finds a spot where she can sit above the water and watch it churn over a boulder and swirl into a pool below. She watches the blue-green of the liquid get darker and darker as twilight descends and she knows she should go back soon, even though she brought her headlamp with her in case it got dark. She’s mesmerized by the flow, however, and she keeps playing with worst case scenarios in her head as the light continues to fade. Just when she’s thinking that she really should get going, Bellamy walks up.

 

His hair is slightly wild from days of being on the water, and he’s wearing a thermal top to ward off the evening chill that’s present even in the summer this high in the mountains. He’s holding her DollyWood mug, which she brought on the trip with her, and he has his Stonehenge mug too, and they both have steam rising from the top.

 

“Made some hot chocolate,” he says, handing her the mug.

 

“Thanks,” she says, wrapping her hands around the warmth.

 

He watches her for a second, then gestures as if asking permission to sit with her. She gives him a look that says _of course, silly_ and thinks of how before, he wouldn’t have hesitated before joining her. They’re falling back into their paddling rhythm, but she wonders if their friendship will ever get back to where it was, to a place where he wouldn’t hesitate.

 

“Watching the water?” he asks before she can follow that train of thought too far.

 

She blows on her hot chocolate to cool it down and gazes out at the surface of the pool. “Something like that.”

 

They watch it together for a while and then he looks at her. “Clarke are you…” and then he fades out.

 

“Am I what?” she asks, confused.

 

He takes a breath. “Are you okay after today? The hole the bottom of the slide, I mean. It seemed like it beat you down pretty good.”

 

Of course he’s able to figure out exactly what’s wrong.

 

“I…” she starts, and then she finds she isn’t able to say she’s okay, because maybe she isn’t. She has been staring at a small rapid and talking herself through contingency plans for the past hour. She settles for “I don’t know.”

 

He’s quiet as he waits for her to elaborate, and she realizes that this is the first chance they’ve had to be alone on the entire trip. He drinks his hot chocolate and gives her space to think, which is such a Bellamy thing to do. It makes her heart beat a strange rhythm that has nothing to do with whitewater.

 

“I got worked, but I ended up being fine, which is good,” she says eventually. “I just had to dig in and get out of there. But while I was upside under there, I just… I don’t know, it was like I was back on the Raven Fork again for a second.” She huffs out a breath as it comes back to her. “And I’m afraid that one of these times I’ll flip and flash back again and something bad will happen.”

 

“You seemed like you handled everything well,” he says after a moment. “You stayed calm and held on, and then you fought that son of a bitch until you got out. That’s grit. I saw your face after, though, and figured I’d check in.”

 

“Was I that obvious?” she asks with a rueful laugh.

 

“No,” he says. “I just know you.”

 

Her heart thuds at his words, because he does. He knows her better than anyone.

 

“You do,” she says. “And you were right. It shook me up a bit. But I’ll be fine. I’ll try and avoid making you have to do something stupid like jump into a rapid after me.”

 

He sets his mug down. “Clarke,” he says, “I’m going to need you to stop being mad at me for what happened on the Raven Fork.” She’s surprised to detect a frustrated tone in his voice. He’s been nothing but gentle with her lately, and it jolts something inside her, hearing this forcefulness from him.

 

And she is mad at him, she realizes. She’s been carrying that around with her this whole time, mixed in with the much larger swath of anger she still feels towards herself. It’s all been packed away, but suddenly, here, it’s coming out, this conversation that’s been brewing for a while now.

 

“It’s hard,” she says, setting her own mug down with a clatter.

 

“Why?” he asks.

 

“Because you nearly drowned!” she replies, her voice rising more than she intended, but her heart is hammering now.

 

“So did you!” he says, his voice rising too.

 

“But it was _my fault_!” she says, and her words settle around them, resting on the water and against the rocks. Because this is at the heart of the matter. Clarke blames herself.

 

Bellamy’s eyes grow sad. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says. “I know you’ll probably never admit otherwise, but seriously. Have you even thought about my feelings? How I felt while it was happening? Why I did what I did?”

 

Clarke feels a stab of guilt in her stomach and her head shakes slightly because when it comes down to it, no, she hasn’t, really. She’s been too caught up in her own self-pity.

 

“What… what were you feeling?” she asks.

 

Bellamy turns slightly so he can face her more directly. The moon has risen now, and she can see the intensity in his eyes in the light amplified by the sheer, pale rock face towering behind them. He’s warring with himself, and she has no idea where this will go.

 

“I’ve never been so scared in my entire life,” he says finally. “I don’t even remember getting from my boat to the shore, it all happened so quickly. When I jumped in, I didn’t hesitate, not for a second. You can call that stupid all you want, but it wasn’t. The prospect of losing you, Clarke—it was too much. That was all I could think about, and it was terrifying. I stand by what I did, and you’re going to have to live with it. I can’t lose you. _Ever_.”

 

She just stares at him after that speech, because his words make her feel better and worse all at the same time about her residual anger over the Raven Fork, but there’s also something else starting here, a larger conversation, and oh god, _oh god_.

 

“I can’t lose you either,” she says, turning so she’s facing him head-on. “That’s why I was so upset with you after. I don’t even care that I would have been just as dead as you, if that happened. The idea of you not existing in the world, not being there for Octavia, I—“ and she pauses as her eyes sting with the threat of tears. “I couldn’t handle it. I still can’t.”

 

Their eyes are locked, now, and Clarke’s senses are overloaded.

 

“So if we can’t lose each other, then why are we doing this? Why are we pushing each other away?” he asks finally, his voice quiet and yet filled with all of the frustration she’s been feeling, too.

 

There it is. The real question.  

 

“I don’t know,” she says. “But I feel like it started before the Raven Fork. That just made things worse.”

 

He’s quiet for a while, looking at the water and then down at the rock they’re sitting on before speaking. “The night of the wedding, before the storm hit, you were in the middle of asking me something. Do you remember?”

 

Her mind flashes back to the scene she’s envisioned so many times since it happened, wondering where it had been going, what she had been thinking.

 

“Yes,” she says.

 

“Are you ever going to finish the question?” he asks.

 

She can’t find words for a moment, just holds his gaze as her mind goes slightly haywire.

 

“I don’t know if I’m brave enough to,” she admits eventually.

 

He shakes his head slightly, trying to puzzle her out. “Why?” he asks, and she has to admit it’s a fair question.

 

“Because,” she says, “It’s a risk.”

 

“A risk,” he repeats.

 

“Yes,” she says, “a risk. It’s all a fucking risk, Bellamy. Running a huge rapid and getting worked at the bottom, asking you about that kiss and having it be a disaster—all of it. I used to think I was good at managing risk, but lately I just don’t know anymore.”

 

“You think asking me about that kiss would be a disaster?” he asks in surprise.

 

“Yes!” she exclaims. “Yes, I do.”

 

He’s quiet again for a while. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it would be a disaster,” he says eventually.

 

“You don’t?” she asks.

 

“No,” he says, and then he moves slightly closer as something in the air between them starts to shift and she’s suddenly very aware of his physical presence. A stab of heat courses through her veins because he’s all masculine power and quiet pensiveness right now, that peculiar mix of his that shouldn’t make sense but does.

 

“So you want to have this conversation?” she asks, and her haywire mind is spiking with nerves over something entirely unrelated to kayaking and yet it’s somehow the scariest thing of all.

 

He looks at her seriously, a challenge in his eyes, and says, “Yeah. I do.”

 

“Fine,” she says, because she can’t back down from the challenge. “I was going to ask if you ever wondered what it would be like if we kissed each other again.”

 

His eyes fall to her mouth, and it’s like she can feel the touch of his gaze on her skin as she awaits his response.

 

“The answer is yes,” he says, meeting her eyes again. “Pretty much constantly.”

 

Her heart leaps, because _what_? “Really?” she asks, incredulous.

 

It’s hard to catch in the moonlight, but there it is. Bellamy Blake is blushing. Clarke’s world starts to tilt.

 

“Yes,” he says. “Is this a disaster yet?”

 

She shakes her head. It’s not a disaster, but she can’t quite find words for it, either.

 

“Good,” he responds.

 

“But—“ she stammers out finally, because she needs to get her bearings. “But if you—I don’t understand—“

 

He leans forward then and cuts her off by capturing her mouth with his. All this talk about kissing, and then it’s finally happening, emphasis on _finally_ , Clarke thinks as her body responds immediately to his. It’s like she’s been in limbo, knowing that she wants this, but not allowing herself to really embrace the feeling, because it’s an invisible line she’s been afraid to cross. But now it’s happening and that fear of crossing the line slips away.

 

His lips are soft, tentative at first, and then she moves hers against his. One of his hands finds its way into her hair to tilt her head just slightly as he deepens the kiss. Her palms are planted on the rock surface as she leans into him and her mouth opens so she can draw his bottom lip between hers, and then, then it’s _really_ on. The hand that’s already in her hair cradles her head to draw her in closer while his other hand reaches for her waist and soon she’s sliding across the rock and practically into his lap.

 

Her hands move to brace herself on his chest before one curves around his neck and up into the edges of his hair, and she’s pouring everything into kissing him, because after not knowing for so long how to channel these feelings, she thinks that maybe this it is, finally, the _most_ _obvious_ way to channel them. Because he’s kissing her back like he’s pouring everything in, too, and that was the last thing she’d let herself hope for, that it could simply work. It’s terrifying, and thrilling, and decidedly not a disaster.

 

Bellamy isn’t sure exactly what pushes him to finally kiss Clarke, other than a combination of the fact that they’re in the middle of a river expedition and it was a long, emotional day on the water, and they’ve found a moment to be alone together for the first time in… a really long time. All of this has been building, but he’s been terrified to actually do it, to actually kiss her. But once he does it, he’s eternally grateful to whatever forces led him to do so. The timing finally fucking worked.

 

Her mouth has been like a dream to him for so long, the memory of their previous kiss daring him to recall the texture of her, the feel. How many times has he had to rip his gaze away from her lips in the past year? Too many to count. But now he doesn’t have to grasp at the straws of the past anymore. He revels in the pliancy and the warmth of her mouth, the discovery of her tongue against his. She tastes like hot chocolate and home, and as the kiss intensifies, their bodies draw together like magnets.

 

She’s fully in his arms by the time they break apart for breath and look at each other in the moonlight. Her eyes are wide and he can see her processing and he wonders if she’s going to pull away, because, well, she thought this might be a disaster. And while he’s pretty sure it’s not—let’s be honest, that was the best kiss of his life—he still doesn’t really know where Clarke stands on all of this.

 

“Does that answer your question?” he asks as he tucks her hair behind her ear and watches her carefully, waiting for her reaction.

 

She’s gazing at him in wonder—good sign—her lips damp, her skin flushed. “You… really? Constantly?”

 

He chuckles and curls his fingers against her cheek because he can’t let go yet. “I mean, I had to take breaks for things like work and basic human functioning, but for the most part, you’re pretty much all I think about. It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.”

 

Telling her this is scary. He’s been keeping it inside for so long, but his fears fade more and more as her hands slide to his chest and then one reaches up and she runs a thumb along the stubble of his jaw. Her gaze flicks between his mouth and his eyes and then confusion crosses her face as the thinking sets in. He knows all of her faces, and this is the thinking one.

 

“Then why has it been so weird with us?” she asks. “Everything was perfect and in balance, and then, I don’t know, you got hurt and we ran the Linville and it was just so confusing. I couldn’t figure out what happened.”

 

He has to pull back slightly, because he needs some room to articulate this, and Clarke in his lap is making it hard to think about anything other than kissing her more. Which would feel great, obviously, but might not be the best way to sort out what is clearly a very convoluted pile of feelings on both of their parts.

 

So he decides to get straight to the point.

 

“What happened is that I fell in love with you,” he says, and once the words are out it’s like a weight has been lifted, and _holy shit_. Did he really just say that to her? He did. No going back now. “I fell in love with you, and I had no idea how to handle it or what to do.”

 

Now she’s really staring, and the thinking face gets more intense. He feels a slight panic, which turns into rambling.

 

“And you kept bringing up our friendship, and how we had this thing that nobody could understand, and I was just going crazy inside, kind of, because I was feeling these things that were definitely _not_ friendship feelings. So if I was acting weird, it’s because there’s no handbook on how to fall for your friend and not make a complete ass of yourself, and it seemed like a better idea to—“

 

She cuts him off by reaching for him by kissing him, and thank god, because if he continues rambling there’s no telling what will come out of his mouth—if he’s not careful he’ll be reciting his entire list to her before long—and also _thank god_ because yeah, can he just keep kissing her forever? This kiss picks up the thread of heat from the previous one and this time his hands slide along her sides as she moves over and straddles his legs, and then she’s in his lap for real, and there’s no hiding just how into this he is.

 

“Bellamy,” she whispers as she pulls back slightly, her breath against his lips as she lets her weight rest on him, which feels amazing. She has that fire in her eyes again that he’d glimpsed after their dance at the wedding, and holy _fuck_.

 

“I fell for you too,” she says, and her eyes are impossibly loaded with emotion, and his heart actually catches on fire at this point, he’s sure, because _did he hear that correctly_? “I don’t know when or how it happened, but I just… it scared me so much. It still scares the hell out of me, to be honest, but this…”

 

And then she’s kissing him again, and his arms are sliding up her sides and she settles her core more firmly against him and he can’t keep his hands from reaching for her hips and holding her there. He’s envisioned this moment in many formations, but nothing compares to the reality of her, of them, giving in to their attraction to each other, giving in to the chemistry that’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface. It’s barely under control at this point.

 

“Fuck, I can’t explain it right now,” Clarke continues after they break apart again, her eyes filled with lust. His hands are now playing with the hem of her shirt and he can feel her shivering against the touch of his fingers. Her hands are linked over his shoulders, and she looks around at the sheer rock face and the night sky above them and then back at him. “I know we’re in a river valley with no privacy beyond, like, a well-placed boulder, and we probably need to talk about this, but—“ and then she kisses him again, and his hands can’t help but slide higher. “I want you,” she says finally, on a breath against the hinge of his jaw as she makes her way towards his neck, tilting his head to the side slightly with her fingers in his hair.

 

Bellamy’s hips surge upward as his pulse jumps against her lips and his eyes fall shut. “You don’t even know how long I’ve wanted you,” he says on a released breath, and his thumbs skim the curves of her breasts—she’s not wearing a bra, having already changed into her longjohns before wandering off—until he reaches her hardened nipples and she gives out a tiny whimper against his skin, and yeah, they’re going to need to find some privacy, fast.

 

He opens his eyes slightly and looks downstream to where he can see the others’ headlamps in the distance, far away but not completely out of sight. He finds her eyes, and they stare at each other for a moment, the desire between them palpable.

 

“I don’t know how many options we’re going to have out here, but do you want to see what we can do about finding that well-placed boulder?” he asks, and she’s sliding off of him with a gleam in her eye already because yes, she does.

 

He grabs their things and follows her as she heads up and away from the river, and after peeking around a few places they do indeed find a well-placed set of tall boulders that provides them with a slightly enclosed space. She reaches for his hand and pulls him to her, and he drops their things and backs her towards a wall of rock until she’s pressed up against it, looking up at him, her eyes shimmering with anticipation and heat.

 

He crashes his mouth down onto hers and kisses her with all of the ferocity of his intentions towards her. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to put _everything_ into a kiss, but he can at least try. She’s here, she wants him, it’s what he’s longed for but been scared to hope for. His brain knows there’s a lot of figuring things out that needs to done, but his body is driving this train right now, and he lets himself dive in completely.

 

She meets him in the kiss with a fierceness of her own, her arms winding around his torso to pull him into her until there’s no space left between them. He rests one hand on the wall while the other winds its way into her hair again, because he loves the feel of it running through his fingers. When he finally gets his mouth on her neck, savoring a spot he’s been fantasizing about for months, a sound escapes from her lips that he’d gladly listen to for the rest of his life. She’s like a live wire in his arms and he can’t get enough.

 

Her hands slide lower until she grabs his hips and pulls him against her, and she presses herself insistently into his erection. She goes for what she wants, of course, which doesn’t surprise him, but thrills him nonetheless. He moves his arms and grazes his hands down her body until he reaches for her gorgeous, shapely ass—just one aspect of Clarke’s anatomy that has been taunting him for _years_ —and sinks his fingers into the soft flesh as he pulls her closer and grinds his cock against her again.

 

She moans this time, but catches herself partway because they’re outside, and sound travels, even with the rush of the river below. “Fuck,” she whispers as he slides one of his hands beneath the waistband of her black leggings and her underwear. “ _Fuck_ ,” she whispers again, louder this time, as his fingers finally curve around her and find the wetness between her legs.

 

She bucks into his fingers and moans into his mouth as he covers it with another kiss. He slips two inside of her and rubs her clit with his thumb, and the feel of her heat is intoxicating, making his dick even harder. He works his hand and she moves with him, and when she pulls back from the kiss she has a wanton look in her eyes that causes him to fall even deeper, if that’s even possible. She reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls upwards until her top is over her head and her large, creamy breasts are fully bared to him in the moonlight.

 

Clarke’s breasts have been his definition of the perfect tits for years now, and he’s seen them in any number of bathing suits and paddling clothes and other tight, revealing things, but he’s never seen them completely exposed. So he can’t help but stare with a big, stupid grin on his face. A sexy, mischievous smile crawls across her face as she watches him watching her, and she leans back against the rock and lets her head tilt to the side as his hand continues to work her pussy, one of her legs lifting to hitch around him and give him better access.

 

He kisses her again as his free hand grabs her breast and squeezes the soft flesh as it rises and falls with her breaths and their movements and he’s pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven. He grasps her nipple between his fingers and pinches and she’s saying _yes, more,_ so he ducks down to take it in his mouth, and the angle is awkward but he doesn’t care. He feels her hand dive down and grasp the length of his cock through his pants and he can’t focus, so he straightens as he gasps in a breath. She squeezes and moves her hand upwards and he surges against her, letting out a low growl as he takes her mouth again.

 

Clarke bites his bottom lip and whispers, “I want you inside me,” before she takes his mouth again, and okay, _yes_.

 

He slides both hands to her leggings and pushes them down, along with her underwear, and she’s kicking them off as much as she can while her own hands are fumbling with his waistband. She shoves this down until he springs free from the confines of the fabric and his hot length comes into direct contact with her fingers. He has to fight not to come right then and there. He pulls his own shirt up and over his head and her other hand splays over his pectorals as soon as they’re exposed.

 

The night air is cool around them, but neither of them actually notices, because they’re burning up for each other. She runs her hand along his length and pulls him close to her, hooking her leg around him again. He reaches down and and lifts her up until her other leg goes around him and he’s gripped between her thighs, her hot, wet heat pressed against him. He pushes her back against the wall for leverage and angles his hips to let her guide him to the right place, and once she begins to slide onto the head of his dick, he thrusts upwards.

 

Both of them cry out as he sinks into her. Her face as her body stretches to accommodate him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life, and his senses can barely handle the tight feel of her around him. Her lashes flutter, but she keeps her eyes open and holds his gaze as they get used to the staggering intimacy of being connected in this way. He begins to fuck her up against the rock, and she moves with him, her strong legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

 

Her breath comes faster and her eyes fall shut as they find the right spot together, and once he’s hitting that, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, he feels like everything in his world is converging in this moment, in the pleasure they’re finding in each other. If this isn’t the goddamn meaning of the universe right here, he doesn’t know what is. She grinds against him one more time and then she’s crying out, her inner muscles suddenly gripping him tightly as she comes hard around his cock. She continues to whimper with each spasm as he moves slowly so she can ride it out.

 

“Bellamy,” she says in the sexiest voice he’s ever heard, after she’s come down slightly from her orgasm.

 

“Clarke,” he says as he continues to move inside her.

 

She nips at the skin of his neck and says, “I want you to fuck me hard until you come inside me.”

 

Oh god. She’s been telling him what she wants with her words and her body this whole time, but this demand… this is something else. He can certainly satisfy it, he’s already dangerously close to satisfying it. His hips are already moving faster, snapping against hers, and he tries to shield her body against the rock but he’s not really in control of anything anymore other than giving her what she wants, which is happily also exactly what his dick wants. She doesn’t seem to mind the roughness as he pounds into her, her lips against his ear as she says, “Yes, fuck, that’s what I want. Harder. Fuck. _Bellamy_.”  

 

He reaches the edge when his cock swells and her teeth graze his ear and he comes, _hard_ , wave after wave of sensation overtaking him as his vision blurs and he empties himself inside her. It’s the closest two people can possibly be, and he never wants to leave this place, ever. She strokes his hair as he stills and when he can finally pick his head up off her shoulder and looks at her, she’s smiling almost shyly, like she didn’t just dirty talk him to the most intense orgasm of his life.

 

“I kind of need to get down,” she says. “Not that I don’t want to stay here forever, because I do, trust me, but… my legs might not work any more.”

 

His legs barely work, but he gets what she’s saying, and he reaches his arms around to help support her as he slides out of her and she unwinds her legs, which are definitely shaky as she places her feet on the ground. He leans against the rock for support, as does she, and they stand there, staring at each other as they continue to catch their breath, naked under the stars.

 

It’s all suddenly very, very real.

 

“Holy shit, Clarke,” is all his brain can come up with, which, just brilliant.

 

Clarke’s smile shifts into a grin, causing relief to cascade through his body. She kisses him on the cheek—she has the weirdest timing with cheek kisses—before reaching for her pants and underwear. The night chill is penetrating quickly as their bodies come down from the highs of sex, and it’s not a bad idea to get dressed, so he moves to find his clothes, too. He reaches for her once they’re fully clothed again and kisses her slowly, tenderly.

 

“Hi,” he says when he pulls away, because he still can’t come up with the right thing to say.

 

“We just had sex in the middle of the Middle Kings,” she says, and then she’s laughing, her arms circling around his waist.

 

“We did,” he says, and his arms wrap more tightly around her until she has to tilt her head back to look at him. “I’m curious. Is this a disaster yet?”

 

She laughs harder and shakes her head. “Ugh. No, it’s not. But…” she trails off and looks away.

 

“But what?” he asks.

 

“This just got real,” she says. “Like, _the most_ real.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It did.”

 

She sighs. “I thought it might be a disaster because I was afraid of what might happen. Even if you did want to kiss me again, I was afraid of what it would mean, if things changed. What it could lead to. What might happen if it didn’t work.”

 

He watches her lip tremble slightly and he can see the fear present there, which echoes some of his own fears, ones he’s had to move past. This was one of the biggest risks in this whole transition from friends to more. But he knows now he can’t live without her like this. He couldn’t have just stayed friends. This was the only choice, for him.

 

“Based on the sex we just had, I’m willing to put all of my money on this working just fine. But I know what you mean. It’s scary, the unknown. But Clarke... I don’t think I can go back to what we had before.”

 

“I don’t know if that even exists anymore,” she says, and then she buries her face against his chest for a moment. “Oh my god, Bellamy,” she says into his shirt, before pulling back again to look at him. “The more I think about all those pronouncements I made about our friendship and people talking about us... Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“Well, part of it was because I was scared of the same things as you. And those friendship pronouncements were pretty convincing,” he replies.

 

“I’ve been such an idiot about this,” she says, shaking her head. “We’re talking varsity-level denial. I was completely convinced that any feelings I had were a terrible idea. But then you had to go and fall for me and not tell me about it, so I guess we’re both idiots. When did this even start?”

 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I mean, I’ve known you for years. We were paddling together constantly, and it was just you and me, doing our thing, like always. And then one day you were standing there and you smiled at me in this way and my heart was like ‘Hi, welcome to your demise.’”

 

“So I’m your heart’s demise?” she asks, laughing.

 

“In a good way!” he says, and then he pulls her even closer as he meets her eyes and strokes his hands up her back. “But it started before that. That was just when I figured it out. If we’re talking about chemistry, the deep down wanting… that’s been there for a long time. Years.”

 

Her eyes grow wide again. “This is just… how did we get so epic? This is epic, right? You and me?”

 

He can’t keep the grin off his face, but his stomach churns because fuck, how much does he confess? This is still undefined territory. “It is epic. Look, I have had this conversation with you in my head so many times, and I’m still not sure how to make all of this make sense without scaring the shit out of you. Trust me, I’ve tried to be chill. But this, Clarke, the way I feel about you, it’s the most serious. Please don’t run screaming.”

 

“It is?” she asks, her voice full of wonder again, and also she’s not running, so he takes that as a good sign.

 

“The most serious, the most epic,” he says. “I know that’s intense, but I figure we should probably start by being honest. If we’re starting something. If you just want me to fuck you up against rocks as, like, a side-project to our friendship, you should probably tell me now.”

 

She giggles then, and it’s the happiest sound he’s heard from her in ages. His heart swells with joy because he did that, and yeah, she’s still not running.

 

“Oh, we’re starting something,” she says, her hand reaching up to graze his jaw again before sliding behind his neck to play with his hair. “I don’t have a great track record with functional relationships, and I don’t know that I’ll be very good at figuring out how to do this, but I’m serious too. I want this with you.”

 

He just pulls her to him in a fierce hug, burying his face in her hair. They hug each other more tightly than they ever have before, and there’s something about it that’s even more intimate than sex. It’s an opening up to one another, a mutual vulnerability, that’s truly the beginning.  

 

“Did we really just figure this out in the middle of a river trip with four other people and basically no time alone?” she asks when she pulls back.

 

“We did,” he says. “Just so you know, I’ve already figured out that timing isn’t our strong suit, so it actually makes sense that it happened now. At least those boulders were on our side.”

 

“Were they ever,” she says suggestively, causing his cock to twitch, and oh my god, she’s playful about sex, she’s vocal about what she wants… he can’t wait to explore every inch of her body and her mind in the bedroom. Actually, scratch that, the bedroom is optional. As they’ve just proven, that exploration can happen anywhere. The world is their playground.

 

As much as Bellamy is tempted to go for another round, it’s late by then, and the next day is going to be their toughest one yet. They make out against the rock a little while longer before heading back to the rest of the group, where everyone has already gone to sleep. He’s sure, if their activities were the least bit obvious, they’ll be hearing from Wick in the morning, but he honestly doesn’t give a shit right now.

 

“Will you sleep next to me?” Clarke whispers as she gets her camping gear.

 

His response is to take her hand and lead her to a place where they can set their sleeping pads up right next to each other—no more of this sleeping a few feet apart business that’s been happening up until now—and have at least some space between them and the rest of the group. Once they get inside their sleeping bags, he reaches out and pulls her against him. “I always want to sleep next to you,” he whispers into her hair. “You better get used to it.”

 

She takes the hand he’s rested against her stomach and threads her fingers with his before kissing his knuckles softly.

 

“I already am,” she says, and then they drift off to sleep.

 

 

**

 

 

Clarke wakes the next morning to a variety of sounds—the river rushing past them, the rustle of sleeping bag material, and smug laughter. She instinctively tightens her arm around the warm, soft mass she is huddled next to to and tries to bury her face against it, but the laughter won’t stop. The mass begins to move and she remembers, suddenly, that it’s Bellamy, ensconced in his sleeping bag, and they’re curled up next to each other at the base of Tehipite Dome on the Middle Kings.

 

Wick and Miller are standing over them, and the source of the smug laughter becomes apparent. “Well well well, look what we have here, Miller,” Wick says eventually.

 

“What’s that, Wick?” Miller replies.

 

“It looks to me like Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are spooning. Which is really, _really_ funny to me, Miller. You know why?”

 

“Why’s that, Wick?” Miller says, his grin growing wider.

 

“According to my very scientific observations, the last time I laid eyes on these two, they were walking upstream, separately, with frowny-faces on, and now it’s morning, and they’re back, and if I’m not mistaken, Bellamy is the _little_ spoon. That is the little spoon, right Miller?”

 

“That’s the little spoon, Wick,” Miller replies, and this time he can barely contain his laughter.

 

The little spoon is moving more forcefully now and really, he’s not little at all, he just happened to snuggle against her just so while they were sleeping and it happened to feel good. So what. He sits up, his hair a mess, and Clarke rubs her hands against her eyes before sitting up, too, and joining Bellamy in glaring at the jokesters above them.

 

“What the fuck do you guys want?” Bellamy grumbles.

 

“Well,” Wick says, “I was thinking we could all grab breakfast together and then go run a casual section of the hardest whitewater in the country, but if you guys need more time to snuggle, that’s cool.” This time he can’t control his laughter.

 

Bellamy looks over at Clarke, his face adorably sleepy and handsome as his scowl fades. It’s hard to stay grumpy when they’re in a beautiful place and they’ve just embarked on this new thing together. A warmth pools low in her belly at just the look in his eyes, and she can feel between her legs exactly where he’d been last night, and wow. Yes. More of that please.

 

“What do you think?” he asks, a sexy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, bringing out his dimples. Dimples and freckles are a dangerous combination, she decides. “Need more time?”

 

“I don’t know, little spoon,” she says. “It’s kind of hard to concentrate with the asshole peanut gallery here.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Wick says, momentarily containing his laughter. “If you could refrain from eye-fucking each other for a second, can we please get a little clarification here? I’ll be nice and not bring up anything I may or may not have heard coming from the general upstream direction last night—wildlife, I’m sure—but the truth is, we’re on a kayaking expedition, which is all about teamwork. If two of the team members start banging each other— _finally—_ in the middle of the trip it’s, like, a rule that they have to tell the rest of the team. For teamwork purposes. Right Miller?”

 

“Sounds right to me, Wick,” Miller says.

 

“Oh, fuck you guys,” Bellamy grumbles again.

 

“No, they have a point,” Clarke says, and she looks at Wick as she puts her hand on Bellamy’s back, her fingers stroking against his muscles through his shirt. He settles back slightly against her and she marvels at the newness of just being able to reach out and touch him whenever she wants. “We are ‘banging’ now, as you so romantically put it, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut and give us some privacy, _Kyle_ , if you don’t want to be the only member of the team who doesn’t make it home because we accidentally forget you here at the bottom of a cliff.”

 

Wick ignores the last part of Clarke’s message and lets out a shout of victory. “Woohoo! Yes! I knew it! I called this _so long ago_! I’m a genius!”

 

“What’s the racket about?” Kane shouts from the other side of the campsite where he and Jackson are packing their gear back into their boats.

 

“Bellamy and Clarke are finally banging!”

 

Kane makes a slightly confused face. “That wasn’t already established?”

 

Clarke feels the blush rising in her cheeks. Wick throws his head back and laughs more as he walks back over to his pile of gear—really, he is way too entertained by all of this— and Miller shakes his head and mumbles something about how “someone finally listened” before going to make breakfast.

 

Bellamy just shakes his head at them before he turns to Clarke. His face melts again into something soft and happy and she knows her own expression is probably similar and she doesn’t care. They get to be as mushy as they want. It’s the best.

 

“Good morning,” he says, his voice tickling her senses. It’s one of the many things about him that she loves. Okay, that word specifically is something to deal with later, but the point is, he’s a delicious package and he’s all hers now.

 

“Good morning,” she says, and she leans in for what’s meant to be a quick peck but turns into something a little more involved before she remembers it’s broad daylight and they have things to do.

 

“Ready to go kayaking?” he asks as they pull apart reluctantly.

 

She stretches her muscles and emerges from her sleeping bag. “You know it,” she says. “What are we on now, day four?”

 

“Day four. I hope you like scary rapids and lots of portaging, because that’s what we’re in for,” he says as he gets his things together. “But it’ll also be the best day of kayaking of your life. It’s kind of confusing, but trust me.”

 

“Why do they have to put the hardest stuff on the day we’re the most sore?” she asks as she packs up her things.

 

“You’ll have to ask mother nature that question,” he replies, and then he touches her back and gives it a rub. “Speaking of sore, I’m sorry if that rock was a little, uh, rough last night.”

 

“The rock was rough?” she asks, raising her eyebrows with a sly smile. “I’ll be fine,” she says, slipping into his arms. “After all, I did ask for it.”

 

He can’t keep the satisfied grin off his face. “That you did,” he says, and then he’s descending for another kiss. She could do this all day, really, if they didn’t have an expedition to complete.

 

“Hey now!” Wick shouts from across the camp. “Just because we’ve confirmed that you’re sleeping together doesn’t mean you have a license to gross us out with PDA for the rest of the trip.”

 

Bellamy kisses the corner of Clarke’s mouth lightly before shouting, “Your vote doesn’t count, Wick.”

 

“I’d say get a room, but the closest room is pretty far away right now. So you’re shit outta luck, son. But enough of that. Who’s ready for some class V kayak riding? Giddy-up, boys!”

 

Bellamy gives Clarke one last kiss—just a peck this time, because they have stuff to do—before they get moving for real. The group rallies and gets everything together, and they head out to conquer the Bottom Nine. It’s insanely technical boulder drop after insanely technical boulder drop, for nine miles, with hazards everywhere, so they need the entire day to take their time and properly scout everything.

 

Clarke had been feeling nervous the night before, and she still approaches it all with caution, but it’s hard to stay moody and dwell when she’s also feeling so good. Great, really. She’s glowing, body and soul, because all of the tense weight that had been surrounding her relationship with Bellamy is gone now, replaced by the realization that they were both really headed in the same direction the entire time, maybe at slightly different times and slightly different paces, but at the end of the day they were both falling. She can’t even stay frustrated by the fact that they hadn’t figured it all out sooner. Something this big—and it is serious, she knows, and she _wants_ it to be, even if it is scary—can’t be rushed. Maybe it took them a while to come to their senses, but they had to find their way to the same place first.

 

It’s hard to keep their stupid grins off their faces as the day goes by, which inspires plenty of teasing on the part of their teammates. The rapids are serious, and there is a lot of portaging, just like Bellamy said there would be. But the bluebird California skies soar above them as they make their way down the river, the mountains rise all around, and the water flows crystal blue over the granite in what truly is one of the most magical places on earth. It’s grueling and insanely difficult, but each drop is more satisfying than the last.

 

When Clarke gets flipped at the bottom of one rapid, she stays calm, and when the demons come knocking, she acknowledges them but doesn’t let them in. She’s able to roll back up and get out of the hole safely, and when she pulls into the eddy afterwards and finds Bellamy waiting for her, she grabs his hand and squeezes.

 

“You’re right,” she says.

 

“About what?” he asks.

 

“This is the best day of kayaking of my life.” And it’s not just the kayaking, she thinks, but she can tell him that— _show_ him that—later.

 

The mood that night in camp is celebratory—Kane even passes around a flask he’s been carrying in his boat the entire time—because by this point the hardest parts of the river are behind them. The Middle Fork itself is officially over, in fact, because after the Bottom Nine it joins with the main part of the river, and it all just becomes the Kings. They have one more day ahead of them, but it’s all fun, pushy, big water, nothing as technical as what they’ve conquered upstream. The plan is to run the final stretch and then load up for the long shuttle drive back to the trailhead to pick up the other vehicles, after which they’ll head to Clarke’s parents’ house to recover and plan their next move.

 

This campsite has slightly more privacy than the last, but not much. Clarke and Bellamy don’t care. This one has trees. Within ten minutes of finishing dinner, they’re behind a small stand of them, tearing each other’s clothes off. They’ve had the foresight this time to bring their sleeping gear with them and craft a little nest into which they crash after Bellamy fucks her from behind up against one of the trees—nature props, she’s always sworn by them—and _that_ is the way to celebrate finishing the best and hardest day of paddling in her life.

 

“I can’t believe we’re almost done,” she says against his chest as she lays there afterwards, tracing patterns with her fingers against his muscles.

 

“I know,” he says. “It’s our last night on the river.”

 

She grins and turns her face so she can plant a kiss against his skin. There’s still enough light that she can see his freckles, and she vows to kiss every last one eventually. She’s a goal-setter, she can do it. “I won’t lie,” she says. “Sleeping outside is amazing, but I cannot wait to get you in a real bed.”

 

“Clarke Griffin,” he scolds jokingly. “Are you telling me that you intend to take advantage of me under your parents’ roof?”

 

“Oh, I intend to take advantage of you _in my childhood bedroom_.”

 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” he says, laughing. “You’re scandalous.”

 

“Not really,” she says. “You’ll be happy to know there’s a queen-size bed in there. I was slightly spoiled as a teenager.”

 

“Thank goodness for that,” he says. “Although are you sure we even need a bed? We’re doing alright so far with rocks and trees.”

 

“We are, aren’t we,” she says.

 

He strokes his fingers through her hair. “Back to the real world,” he says after a while.

 

She sighs. “Back to the real world.”

 

“The ends of these kinds of trips are always bittersweet,” he continues. “It’s awesome to accomplish the feat, and it’s really awesome to take a shower and eat food not cooked on a camp stove and sleep in a real bed. But it’s also kind of sad. It’s like the end of a special little world you put together, where nothing matters but the river.”

 

“Yeah,” she says. “Part of me wishes we could just stay out here forever. What do you say? You and me, we could just set up shop in the Kings canyon, live off the land, rule the forest together?”

 

He reaches his arm across to pull her closer against him. “I’m in.”

 

She slides up his chest and kisses him on the chin, on the cheek, on the mouth. “Good.”

 

He pulls her in to deepen the kiss, which she loves. She had no idea how good kissing him would be. Well, she clearly had some idea, given that she’d made an experiment out of it the year before, but being able to truly kiss him is a different game altogether.

 

“As a California native I have to tell you, the winters in these mountains won’t be pleasant,” she says when they pull back. “They’ve got a good thing going in the southeast with that whole ‘mild winter’ thing.”

 

“Fine,” he says. “I guess we can go back.”

 

“Are we ready?” she asks after a beat. “For the real world, I mean.”

 

He reaches for her hand and holds it against his chest. “I think we are.”

 

“How long do you think it’ll take Wick to tell Raven about us?” she asks.

 

“How long does it take for an iPhone to turn back on and get service?” Bellamy replies.

 

She just chuckles softly as her eyes grow heavier and heavier with sleepiness.

 

“We’re going to hear a lot of chatter from a lot of people,” he continues, his voice sounding sleepy too. “But the only thing that matters at the end of the day is you and me.”

 

She snuggles in closer to him, allowing her eyes to drift shut. They have a lot of unknowns ahead of them, but he’s right. At the end of the day, it’s the two of them. They’ve faced a lot of things together. And now they’re poised to face a whole lot more. A lot of those things are scary, she thinks as she falls asleep, but won’t be as scary with him by her side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's California song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ty_WlmIKvY
> 
> Are you ready for Bellamy Blake to have a beer with Jake Griffin? Because I am.


	9. Chapter 9

The last day on the water goes by quickly. Everyone is tired from the preceding four days, and this part of the river—the main channel—has a lot more water and a lot less technical difficulty. There’s an almost goofy air about the group, an end-of-trip delirium, after days of seriousness. Bellamy ends up running a rapid backwards because he’s looking at Clarke and misses the eddy above it, and when he rolls up after getting flipped at the bottom, it’s to the sound of Wick and Miller’s howling laughter.

 

They paddle quickly because they have a long drive ahead of them to pick up the other vehicles, and when they do reach the takeout, they don’t waste much time getting off the water and ready to go. Everyone is excited to get to Clarke’s parents’ place. Given the timing, they won’t arrive until the middle of the night, but the plan is to spend the next day there, resting and showering and looking at their options. They need to check levels on some of the other rivers nearby and decide if they want to run them—if they’re still runnable this late in the season—or if they want to get started on their drive back to Arkville.

 

Bellamy thinks it could go either way. He and Miller need to get back fairly soon so they can get work started on the new house they’re building, and Clarke has her job to get back to as well. Kane and Wick are more likely to stay if they can, but there’s no telling until they have internet access again and can see what’s do-able.

 

He knows the minute they have internet access, because the phones are on, and just like he predicted, Wick wastes no time in telling Raven the good news. He and Clarke are shoved in the back seat of Jackson’s Suburban—it’s cozy, with everyone’s gear, and yeah, they all need showers, badly—when Clarke holds up her phone so he can see the texts from Raven.

 

_ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS??!?_

_I mean are you fucking, seriously? Or is Wick messing with me?_

_WHAT HAPPENED???_

“And so it begins,” he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer. He bumps into Miller on the other side of Clarke, and Miller shoves at them both, playfully. Clarke throws a well-placed elbow into Miller’s side. It’s been a long trip.

 

Clarke is laughing, but he can also see a seriousness behind her eyes, and it taps into a seriousness he’s feeling, too. They’re going through a major shift in their relationship, and while it was easy to jump immediately into it when they were in the middle of an intense trip, and years of sexual tension were finally getting satisfied, he knows it’s not that simple. It will never be that simple with him and Clarke. The past few days were like a blissfully intense world separated from reality. Now comes the challenge of incorporating this transition into their normal, day-to-day lives. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just the reality of grown-up relationships.

 

Clarke nudges him out of his thoughts and shows him the response she’s tapped out.

 

_Shoved in the back of Suburban with multiple smelly bros, will call you later. But Wick is right._

 

“Never thought I’d say that,” she chuckles.

 

“Seriously,” Bellamy responds, reaching forward to lightly shove Wick where he’s sitting in front of them. “Having fun writing your diary to Raven?”

 

Wick shoves back without looking up from his phone. “Just fulfilling my duty as messenger to the people.”

 

“You have zero discretion,” Bellamy says.

 

Wick just shrugs and makes a face like he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that. 

 

By the time Bellamy turns his phone on, he’s not surprised to find a series of texts from Octavia.

 

_IS IT TRUE??_

_Please tell me Wick isn’t full of shit_

_Raven says he is NOT full of shit, please CONFIRM_

_BELLAMYYYYYYY TURN YOUR PHONE ONNNNNNNN_

He just shakes his head because he wants to talk to her about this, but now’s not the time. Octavia is the person he’s confided in the most up to this point about the whole situation, he owes her more than a text conversation about it. But he supposes they’ll get to that. He texts her back,

 

_It’s true and I’ll tell you everything later, just be patient._

He knows she’ll hate this, because Octavia is not patient about this kind of thing, and sure enough she texts back,

 

_But I want to know RIGHT MEOWWWW_

He takes a picture of the interior of the Suburban, filled with people and gear piled on top of each other, and sends it to her with the text,

 

_Not in the best place for talking right now, will call tomorrow_

“Are you texting Octavia?” Clarke asks when she sees what he’s doing.

 

“Yeah,” he says.

 

Clarke reaches for his phone, switches the camera mode, pulls his face close to hers, and takes a selfie right as she’s giving him a kiss on the cheek. She types _Clarke says hi_ beneath the photo and hits send before he can really get a look at the photo.

 

“Are you trying to torture her?” he asks as he gets a better look at the photo, in which he decides he looks goofy as hell, but Clarke looks beautiful, and she’s kissing him, so, new favourite photo? Yes.

 

“I’m throwing her a bone, here,” Clarke explains.

 

Sure enough Octavia texts back,

 

 _THANK YOUUUUUUU UGH I CAN’T WAIT_  

 

_Drive safe, dummies_

The drive is long. It’s been dark for hours already by the time they get back to the other vehicles at the Bishop Pass trailhead, and they take minimal time switching people out, deciding to wait on transferring gear until they get to Clarke’s parents’ house. They’ll have all day tomorrow to sort it out, and at this point, everyone just wants to go to sleep. 

 

It’s almost two in the morning when Bellamy pulls his truck into the driveway Clarke has directed him to. It’s not a short driveway. He knows before he even sees the house that it’s going to be large, and when they pull around the corner and it comes into view, his suspicions are confirmed. It’s not a mansion, but it’s not small either, and it’s situated on a gorgeous piece of property with lots of space and trees. No wonder Clarke likes big yards. She grew up with a massive one.

 

Bellamy's childhood home had been modest, especially in comparison to this one. He knows both of Clarke's parents are doctors, and that they must make enough to live comfortably like this. She'd joked about being a spoiled teenager, but he's really never thought about the differences in the financial circumstances of their upbringings because Clarke is not a material person. She doesn't talk really about money. It's not like she's making much anyway right now, as she's still a resident, but this is one of those things that they have to think about now that they’re in a relationship.

 

Clarke is practically bouncing on the front seat, even though she’s as exhausted as everyone else, and the way her eyes light up when she sees her childhood home makes him smile. Theirs is the first vehicle to arrive out of the three. Clarke had let her dad know their approximate arrival time and told him he didn't have to be awake to meet them, but as Bellamy pulls the truck in front of the house he sees a figure emerging from the door. Clarke bounds out of the truck before Bellamy can even put it in park. 

 

"Dad!" she says as she flies into his arms. 

 

Jake Griffin pulls his daughter close and they're quite the picture as they embrace. She gets her hair from him, he notes as he sees their two blonde heads close together. Jake Griffin is tall and strong, his muscular arms indicating that he's in great shape for a guy in his fifties, probably because he still paddles. 

 

Bellamy feels a stab of nerves as he watches them, because while he's been looking forward to meeting Clarke's dad for a while, he's not quite sure how to act given the recent change in his and Clarke's relationship. What should he say? _Hi Dr. Griffin, great to finally meet you. I've been dating your daughter for two days. How many grandkids do you want? Because I'm thinking we try for least three._ Yeah, no.

 

Bellamy can tell from their body language how close Clarke is with her father. She's talked about it, too, how they have a special bond. He’s the one who taught her how to kayak, instilling his love for the water into her from a young age. And now she’s arguably one of the best female paddlers in the country, if not the world. Bellamy is curious what her mother will be like, because Clarke talks about her a lot less. The only real descriptor he can recall is "busy." 

 

Clarke lets go of her dad and turns to find Bellamy where he's waiting by the truck, letting them have their moment. She gives him a reassuring smile, which means she can tell he's nervous. Great. 

 

“Dad, this is Bellamy Blake,” she says. “Bellamy, this is my dad, Jake.”

 

Jake extends his hand to shake Bellamy’s. “It’s great to meet you, Bellamy,” he says.

 

“It’s great to meet you too, Dr. Griffin,” Bellamy says, appreciating the man’s strong handshake and straightforward smile. He sees Clarke in her father’s eyes, in the way his hair falls across his forehead. It’s startling, really.

 

“Please, call me Jake,” her dad says. “How was the river?”

 

“It was amazing,” Bellamy says. “Clarke killed it.”

 

Jake beams. “Of course she did. I’m sure you guys are exhausted, but I want to hear all about it tomorrow. Clarke says you guys can stay for the day at least?”

 

“That’s the plan,” Bellamy replies. “We’ve got gear to sort out, next moves to consider.”

 

“Well, listen,” Jake says. “You guys should all make yourselves at home. We’ve got two guest rooms, and plenty of room in the basement to spread out on pull-out couches. Abby and I got the whole place ready.”

 

Bellamy is about to say thanks when Clarke reaches for his hand and tugs him closer. “Bellamy’s staying in my room,” she says to her dad. “He’s… mine.”

 

Bellamy turns to her in surprise at her statement, and he likes the decisiveness in her voice, the possessiveness of the pronoun. When he turns back to Jake, he finds the man smiling amusedly at both of them.

 

“Really,” he says as the sound of crunching gravel indicates the arrival of the other vehicles. “Well, that’s another thing you’ll have to fill me in on tomorrow.”

 

The other vehicles pull up and Jake greets the rest of the crew. He already knows Jackson, but it turns out he and Kane have met before, too, though they don’t know each other well. But in the kayaking world, it doesn’t matter if you’ve met someone once or if you paddle with them every day. The friendliness remains. They’re all in it for the same reasons, drawn to it for the love of the water. Bellamy marvels at how Jake Griffin is really just another kayaker, part of the extended network of people who know each other through the sport. He’s the kind of guy Bellamy could drink beers and talk shop with. It’s all chill and easy except for the part where Bellamy’s in love with his daughter.

 

Although Jake doesn’t seem to have a problem with that, at least not visibly. Not that he would, necessarily, but Bellamy’s from the south. There’s a certain moral politeness that’s instilled in him. He wouldn’t just assume that it was okay for him to sleep in Clarke’s room, even though they’re both adults. It’s the kind of thing the parents make the rules about, and you ask them first.

 

So he’s happy to have that blessing, even though he’s pretty sure Clarke would do whatever she wanted regardless of the rules. He’s thinking about this as she pulls him into her room a short time later. She leads him straight to the connected bathroom.

 

“Do you want a shower before bed?” she asks.

 

Bellamy looks at the bed, which has pristine sheets, and says, “Yes.”

 

“Okay, there should be soap and towels and everything in there already. I’m going to go make sure everyone else gets settled in, I’ll be back soon,” she says, and then she kisses him before she goes. He loves kissing her, loves the feel of getting wrapped up in her, and she pulls away too soon before she goes.

 

The shower feels amazing after a week of getting wet on the river every day but not clean. He lets the warm water slough off the grime, and soothe the aching of his muscles, and by the time he’s towelling off and looking around Clarke’s room, he’s as relaxed as he’s been in a while. The room hasn’t been completely preserved since she was a teenager, which makes since given that she hasn’t lived here in nearly a decade, but there are still certain touches of her younger self there. The photos, for instance, of Clarke as a girl, have him grinning even as his eyes are drooping. And there’s a bookshelf filled with novels and schoolbooks. He could spend all night looking at this stuff, if he wasn’t so tired.

 

When he pulls back the covers and falls into bed it’s the most blissful feeling. Clarke’s not back yet, but he knows she’s coming eventually, and he feels a contentedness as sleep pulls him under. He only wakes slightly when he feels her lips on his brow, causing him to stir.

 

“Shhhh, keep sleeping,” she whispers as she pulls the covers up and over him further as she crawls beneath them too. Her bare legs slide against his and his cock twitches and he’s so tired. There’s time for that in the morning. He’s happy now with simply sleeping next to her in a bed for the first time. He slides one of his hands into hers and he smiles to himself as he gets pulled back under.

 

**

 

Clarke wakes the next morning to find an expanse of freckled muscular male sprawled out next to her. Bellamy is on his stomach, his face on the pillow turned toward her, looking innocent in sleep in the morning light. She feels a thrill course through her veins at the sight of him, the reality of him in this space. He’s the first boy she’s ever had in her bed in this room. Clarke was no saint in high school, but she was enough of a rule follower that she also didn’t dare try and get away with anything under her parents’ roof.

 

She smiles to herself because, well, she’s an adult now, and she can do whatever she wants. She reaches her hand out and lightly touches her fingers to his hairline, moving them slowly until they fall against his cheek. He’d shaved the night before, she notices, and she misses the scruffiness—she’s always found scruffy Bellamy sexy as hell—but she’s also looking forward to kissing him without the slight itch of facial hair. He begins to stir, letting out a sleepy moan, and she pulls her hand back as his eyes blink open, resting her fingers on his forearm.

 

“Good morning,” she whispers.

 

“Good morning,” he whispers back as his lips curve up in a smile.

 

The lust that’s already started pooling in her belly gets stirred up and intensified, and Clarke marvels at how strongly she wants him, how powerful the draw really is. The past few days have left little time for considering the practical aspects of the changes happening between them, but the pure want she feels has demanded attention, and they’ve satisfied it when they’ve had the chance. But it hasn’t been enough. She feels a bit like a sex-crazed teenager, driven by hormones and not using her brain, but honestly, her brain can back off.

 

He adjusts his position so he can reach for her and the feel of his strong arm pulling her toward him sends another jolt of need to her core. She’d woken up turned on and by now she’s straight-up horny as their mostly bare skin comes into contact beneath the sheets. His hand slides beneath the tank top she’d slept in before traveling down to grab her ass and pull her against his erection, which makes her smile wickedly as she hitches one leg over him so she can be closer.

 

The sleepiness in his eyes is gone, replaced with desire, and she resists the urge to talk because she just wants to feel, wants to revel in him. Her heart is beating wildly, the wetness pooling between her legs at a ridiculous rate, and they haven’t even kissed yet. Her hand skims over his chest and then up to guide him by the jaw until their lips meet. The kiss is tender and slow, with a deep heat simmering beneath the surface. Their tongues play with each other lazily as they stoke the fire between them. She savours every nibble of lips, every swipe of the tongue, because this is the first time they’ve been able to take their time with each other in private.

 

Bellamy’s hand slides along her body, his fingers finding her breast and giving a squeeze that causes a moan to escape from her mouth into his. He kneads her breast and then slides his hand down her stomach and beneath the fabric of her underwear to find her soaking wet.

 

This time he’s the one moaning into her mouth. He breaks the kiss as his fingers continue to play with her, sliding along her folds until his thumb scrapes across her clit, causing her back to arch in pleasure. He lifts himself up more until he’s above her and she’s laying on her back beneath him, pulling her shirt over her head, and he’s staring down at her with that lazy purposefulness of his.

 

His gaze falls to her breasts and then he’s following with his mouth, his hand sliding back up to grasp the flesh and push it upwards so her nipple is in perfect position for him to suck on it. He latches on and her head falls back into the pillows with a whimper as she’s overwhelmed by both the sight of his mouth on her like that and the feel of his teeth as they graze the sensitive skin. He continues his ministrations with her other breast, too, and _christ_ , she could do this all day, _for sure_ , if her clit wasn’t also throbbing for attention.

 

A needy moan betrays her and she manages to form it into some words, although not a complete sentence. “Bellamy, I want…” and she trails off as he pushes her breasts together and leans down to kiss both nipples and then her cleavage.

 

“Have I ever told you,” Bellamy says after he pulls his head away from her chest, “that you have the best tits in the entire universe? Because you do.”

 

She laughs and hears the lust in her voice, because the blood pounding in her core is getting pretty out of hand. “I _have_ caught you staring at them from time to time,” she replies, her fingers reaching up to his hair to pull him back down to her. She intends to kiss him, but he insists on heading downward, and yes, _that works too_.

 

“It’s been a struggle,” he says as he kisses his way down her stomach, “since the first time I saw you in a bikini, to not be a complete dirtbag about your breasts.” He nips at her hipbone as he pulls her underwear down her legs. “So you’ll have to forgive me if I get a little fixated now that I have access.”

 

The muscles in his shoulders flex as he nudges her legs wider apart, and he reaches to give her breast one last squeeze before trailing his hand down to spread her open. He looks up at her devilishly, his dimples deep. “But this is going to give that fixation a run for it’s money,” he says, and then he latches his mouth onto her clit.

 

She shudders with the pleasure as it rolls through her, the pressure against her most sensitive point giving her a measure of relief she’s been reaching for since she woke up. He sucks at her before beginning his exploration, with tongue and fingers, and Clarke’s always thought this particular sex act was overrated but she realizes, as he keeps going, that she was wrong, so wrong.

 

Because she hadn’t experienced Bellamy going down on her when she made that judgment, and this is next level. It’s his hands, she thinks as she stifles as scream when he curls his fingers inside her and finds a spot that demands the perfect amount of force as his tongue laps against her on the outside, and it’s his mouth, his fucking mouth… and then she’s not thinking at all. Her hips seem to move of their own accord as he pushes her farther and father, the muscles of her lower body tensing until finally she feels the burn cresting and she falls over into the otherworldly realm of orgasm.

 

“Bellamy!” she gasps as she comes, and she wants to cry it feels so good. Onces she’s stopped clenching around him, he removes his hand from where it’s just performed sinfully good work and crawls up her body as he shoves his boxers off. Her hands reach for him but she’s still trembling from coming and they can’t find purchase before she feels his cock pushing inside her and then she’s just straight-up groaning.

 

She rocks up against him, her eyes falling open again as he pulls back and sinks into her again, and she can’t keep the smile off her face that arises from the beauty of morning sex. He smiles too, and then leans down to kiss her, and she savors the taste of herself on his lips as they move together. They’ve had sex up against a rock, up against a tree, and both times had been brilliant, but this is the first time they’ve had regular, normal bed sex. The first time they’ve had the space to just _be_.

 

Bellamy moves slowly at first, and she slides her hands along his back, his muscles jumping under her touch. She loves the feel of him inside her, over her, and she lets herself be consumed by their connection, her heart hammering with the intimacy of waking up together and making love. She’s surprised when she feels the spark of another orgasm building in her core, because multiple orgasms are another thing she’s never been completely convinced about.

 

But she feels it, and she craves the release again, this time wanting to feel it with him. She reaches down to grab his muscular backside and pulls him more deeply into her, her hips angling upwards to find more friction. His head drops down and he groans his approval into her hair before latching his lips onto her neck. This drives her wild, a rush of sensations rioting through her as they move together with increasing urgency.

 

He thrusts against her at the glorious angle they’ve managed to find, again and again, until his breath starts to catch and she can feel him growing bigger, harder inside of her. She knows he’s close, and she is too, so she draws him as deep as she can, as close as she can. He pulls his head up and looks into her eyes as he thrusts into her and comes with a growl of her name on his lips, and this triggers her own orgasm, both the feel of him filling her and the intensity of his gaze, and she cries out as it overtakes them both.

 

They melt into each other after that, and Clarke would gladly hold him inside of her forever if she could, but eventually he has to withdraw as he rolls off of her. Clarke feels the rush of wetness and moves to find a tissue so she can get cleaned up before she lays back down, her breath returning to a normal rate, but slowly. The messiness of lovemaking has never embarrassed her, but it is something to be dealt with, and it’s much easier back in civilization than in the middle of the woods. He pulls her to him and she pillows her head against his chest, which is also rising and falling at a decreasing rate, and when she feels the touch of his lips against her hair she smiles against his skin.

 

“What time is it?” he asks.

 

“Almost nine,” she replies, having seen the clock when she got the tissue. “I didn’t get to sleep until nearly three. I’ll take my sleep-in when I can.”

 

Both of his arms wrap around her and squeeze her in a hug. “I like your style of sleeping in,” he says, and she can’t help running her leg against his in response.

 

She wants to wake up with him every day, she realizes. Which is a given, she supposes, after she’d told him that she was serious about this too. _Epic_ was the word they’d used, and she fully believes that they are. But that admission was just a first step. They don’t live together, they’ve just begun this thing, really, and the enormity of what she already wants with him is astounding to her. That she could be so scared and unsure, and then be able to feel this.

 

She figures it’s probably smart to start with the basics.

 

“Hey,” she says softly. “You’re my boyfriend now, right?”

 

He looks at her in confused amusement. “Well, the term you used last night was ‘mine,’ which I’m a huge fan of. But I guess that makes me your boyfriend, too.”

 

She smiles. “Okay good. We hadn’t really talked about it, I just figured it was something to confirm.”

 

He tilts her chin up so he can meet her eyes. “I’m yours, Clarke. Whatever you want to call me. But boyfriend is probably the easiest for everyone else to grasp. And besides,” he says as he turns onto his side and pulls her in for a kiss before saying, “I’m pretty into the idea of calling you my girlfriend.”

 

“Oh really,” she says with a slight laugh as his breath tickles against her skin where he’s nuzzling at her neck.

 

“’Hi, this is my girlfriend, the beautiful, badass Dr. Clarke Griffin,’” he teases.

 

“Has a nice ring to it,” she acknowledges, and it does, causing shivers of emotion to run up her spine and latch onto her heart.

 

“Look,” he says. “I know you have reservations about relationships and the way they make people act less than rationally. And it’s not like I know exactly what I’m doing here, either. So if you’re ever unsure about something, please, talk to me about it?”

 

Her heart throbs with emotion. He’s always listened to her, and he remembers things like this about her, and knows when to bring them up. Of course he’d detected her hesitation in asking if he was her boyfriend, and he’d figured out the strange place inside of her that was coming from. She’s so touched she can’t even form a verbal response, just nods at him with what she’s sure is the most moonstruck look ever on her face.

 

“We’ll figure this out,” he says. “We both have things in our pasts that haven’t worked. But you know what’s always worked? You and me. Together.”

 

She kisses him then, and she knows with her entire being that _this is what love feels like._ Is it too early to know this? Or has she felt this all along? The more she thinks about the bond they’ve formed over the years, the deeper she realizes this all goes. His words from days before come back to her— _What happened is that I fell in love with you—_ and it’s like that lightning bolt from the night of the wedding comes again and strikes her right in the heart.

 

She pulls back and looks at him, making sure his gaze is focused on her, and she says, “Bellamy, I love you.”

 

His eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and wonder.

 

“Maybe it’s too soon,” she continues. “But I don’t care, I—“

 

“It’s not too soon!” he says, cutting her off and grabbing her hand. “I love you,” he says back, his eyes filled with the meaning of his words. “I’m so in love with you. ”

 

She breaks into a smile. Her heart can’t contain all of it, her own love for him spilling over as it combines with his for her, and she kisses him again and again. She never really knew that it was possible to be happy like this, to find this kind of joy with another person, before him.

 

“I didn’t say it because I didn’t want to scare you,” he says against her cheek as they become entangled again.

 

“I’m not scared,” she says as she nips at his ear, and then she pulls back just enough that she can see his eyes again. “Not with you.”

 

The desire flashes between them again, and she doesn’t care that everyone else is probably awake and wondering where they are. Or rather, everyone is awake and knows exactly where they are. She decides it’s fine if they sleep in a little while longer—she wouldn’t mind returning the favour from earlier, she thinks as the heat flies through her veins— and dives in to kiss him again.

 

 

**

 

 

They have to emerge eventually, and when they do, they find that everyone is indeed awake and already starting to sort gear. Fortunately, Wick has the good sense to keep the more over-the-top comments to himself around Clarke’s dad. Jake has taken the day off work to hang out with his daughter and the crew, and they get to give him a full account of the Middle Kings as well as the series of creeks they ran all winter and spring in preparation for this trip. It’s clear that Jake is really proud of Clarke, and whenever he says so she blushes and smiles in the cutest way, Bellamy thinks.

 

Bellamy leaves the house in the middle of the afternoon when Clarke is having a nap and everyone else is occupied with something. It’s hot and dry in the California sun, so he takes a walk down the shady drive and calls Octavia.

 

“Hey loser,” she says when she picks up. “Or should I say winner? Since you are the winner of Clarke’s heart now, riiiiight?”

 

He can hear her laughing and can’t help but smile. “Something like that.”

 

“I’ll ask you about the river and stuff in a minute but first you have to tell me what happened,” she says. “Did you just wake up one day and stop being an idiot?”

 

“I guess so,” he says with a laugh. “She needed space after the swim and I gave that to her, but I don’t know. Something about being out there, running that intense stuff all day, every day, I think both of us got tired of the way things were going. I basically told her she wasn’t allowed to be mad at me for saving her anymore.”

 

“You did not,” Octavia says. “Bellamy, that’s intense.”

 

“Well, it was an intense moment,” he replies. “And then we talked about how it had been weird between us and we both hated it.”

 

“You guys _actually_ talked about that stuff?” Octavia asks. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

“Hey, Clarke and I are great at talking about stuff,” Bellamy protests.

 

“Uh, not since you fell butt crazy in love with her you’re not. Or maybe you’re back on track now, but for a while you two were _not_ talking about stuff, and it was bad.”

 

“Did you just quote _Clueless_?” Bellamy asks, and he knows she’s right.

 

“You know I did. You’ve been _such_ a Cher about this whole love realization thing, come to think of it.”

 

“I have not,” Bellamy protests.

 

“Whatever. Keep telling me the story.”

 

Bellamy sighs. “Well, I guess I was tired and frustrated enough to finally ask her about this thing she said at Monty and Miller’s wedding.”

 

“What thing? Tell me the thing!” Octavia insists excitedly.

 

“You saw us slowdancing, right?” he asks.

 

“Duh, like I could miss that pathetic display of hidden feelings,” she says.

 

“It was not pathetic. It’s fucking Miller’s fault anyway, for putting ‘Landslide’ on his wedding playlist.”

 

“That song is beautiful and you love it. And by pathetic I mean adorable. Now keep going,” Octavia says.

 

“Well, that dance fucked me up,” he says. “Like, _had to go outside for a breather_ fucked me up.”

 

Octavia is laughing again. “God, you two. I knew that date was going to be torture. You’re such masochists!”

 

“Tell me about it,” Bellamy says. “So she found me out there and she was halfway through asking me something about that time she kissed me when I shit you not, lightning struck and all hell broke loose with the rain and the clean-up.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Bellamy!” Octavia exclaims. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

 

“I wasn’t really in the mood to talk about it after things went down on the Raven Fork,” he replies.

 

“But you’re in the mood now,” Octavia says.

 

“Yeah, because I finally asked her to finish the question, and she asked if I ever wondered what it would be like if we tried kissing again.”

 

“And you said…”

 

“I said yes, pretty much constantly.”

 

“Oh my god,” Octavia says. “You just laid it out there! I can’t believe you actually did that.”

 

“Neither can I, but… it worked. I finally just said that and kissed her and it just made sense.”

 

“Of course it made sense,” Octavia says. “You two make the most sense. Oh my god, I can’t wait to hear Clarke’s version of this too.”

 

They talk for a little while longer before Bellamy heads back to the house. He feels good after talking to Octavia. Something about articulating what had happened to a third party makes it feel more real.

 

Clarke’s mom comes home later in the afternoon and she is not what Bellamy was expecting. The third Doctor Griffin is small and dark, with intense brown eyes that her smile doesn’t quite reach when Clarke introduces him as her boyfriend. She doesn’t insist that he call her Abby, so he sticks with Dr. Griffin.

 

“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend, Clarke,” she says after shaking Bellamy’s hand.

 

“I didn’t until recently,” Clarke says matter-of-factly. “But now I do. And you better get used to him because he’s going to be around for a while.”

 

End of discussion. God, he loves her.

 

They have a big barbecue that night. The levels have been checked and plans have been made. Everyone is going to head back east in the morning. The Middle Kings is always one of the last runs to flow every year, so there’s nothing worth staying to paddle, and they have to get back to their jobs, anyway.     

 

The bocce set comes out after they finish eating, and Bellamy finds himself sitting on the back deck watching Clarke and Miller play against Wick and Jackson. He’s laughing at the way Clarke shoves Wick and starts accusing him of cheating when Jake walks up with two beers and joins him.

 

“She doesn’t like losing,” Jake says as he sits down in the deck chair next to Bellamy’s and hands him a beer.

 

“No, she does not,” Bellamy agrees, taking the beer. “Thanks,” he says. He’s had the chance to talk to Jake on and off all day while they’ve been hanging around the house, swapping stories about kayaking. Bellamy likes Jake a lot. He hopes the feeling is mutual.

 

Clarke is currently standing with her hands on her hips, refusing to budge out of Wick’s way. Her blonde hair gleams in the summer evening sun, resting on her shoulders, which are bared by the sleeveless cotton sundress she’s wearing. She looks adorable and sexy and Bellamy is still getting used to the fact that she loves him back.

 

“She gets that stubborn streak from her mother, you know,” Jake says, nodding at his daughter where she’s still confounding Wick. “Everyone always says how much Clarke and I have in common, but she’s really like Abby in a lot of fundamental ways.”

 

“It’s interesting to finally meet you guys,” Bellamy says, “and see where Clarke comes from.”

 

“You’ve known my daughter for a while now,” Jake says, and Bellamy’s not sure if it’s a statement or a question.

 

“I met her over seven years ago,” he replies. He can’t quite believe it’s been that long. “I made the mistake of doubting her before she ran Gorilla for the first time. We didn’t really become friends until I begged forgiveness for that.”

 

Jake laughs. “Clarke learned how to deal with other people’s doubts about her on the water at an early age. Even my paddling friends would underestimate her. The looks on their faces when she had better lines than they did were priceless.”

 

“You would’ve enjoyed the look on my face after she styled Gorilla, then,” Bellamy says. “Never made that mistake again.”

 

“You guys paddle a lot together,” Jake says.

 

“Yeah, we do,” Bellamy replies. “Training for this expedition was really amazing, actually. We’re just on the same page about a lot of things.”

 

“Well, I’m glad she’s got you out there with her,” Jake says. “I know how much experience you have, Bellamy. I understand how far that goes when it comes to dealing with the level of whitewater you guys run, when bad situations come up.”

 

Bellamy is humbled by this. “If anyone’s good in a bad situation, it’s Clarke,” he says. “I’m glad I have her out there with me. She had to stitch me up a few months ago, in fact.”

 

Jake nods. “She’s a great doctor. Another thing she has in common with her mother. You know, Abby had to stitch me up at a river take-out once, back when we were younger. She doesn’t kayak, she was just there after running shuttle, she had baby Clarke in the car seat. She was _not_ amused.”

 

Bellamy smiles, imagining the scenario. “I don’t think Clarke was amused either. But she was so calm, I couldn’t believe it.”

 

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Jake says. “It’s been great getting to hang out with her, even if it’s just for a day. Abby and I keep saying we’re going to travel to North Carolina more to see her.”

 

“You should,” Bellamy says. “We’ll go kayaking.”

 

“That would be awesome,” Jake says. “I grew up in Atlanta, it would be great to get out on some of the old classics.”

 

“We’ll make it happen,” Bellamy continues. “Clarke will be so happy. I know she misses kayaking with you.”

 

Jake is quiet for a beat, and then he says, “You care about my daughter a lot, don’t you? I can tell, by the way you look at her.”

 

Bellamy looks at Jake, meets his eyes as he says, “I love your daughter.”

 

Jake smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”

 

Bellamy feels like he can talk to Jake, and he wants to, he wants him to know that Clarke is in good hands. “We were friends for years, and I always thought she was the smartest, most beautiful, most badass woman ever. And eventually I realized that meant that I was in love with her. It took a little while to figure out how to tell her that, but I think we’re in a good place now. I’m in this for the long haul, if she’ll have me.”

 

Jake sits up and rests his elbows on his knees as he watches his daughter, and then looks back at Bellamy. “I know how important you are to her, from the way she’s talked about you over the years. You’ve been good to her, and I’m sure you’ll continue to be good to her, good _for_ her. So for what it’s worth, Bellamy—and it’s probably not worth much because Clarke is an adult, and she’s always done what she wants no matter what I say—you have my approval.”

 

This makes Bellamy ridiculously happy. “Thank you,” he says. “That means a lot.”

 

Clarke marches over to them then, having abandoned the bocce. “What are you guys up to?”

 

Bellamy shares a look with Jake before turning to Clarke. “Just discussing how the patriarchy doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

 

Clarke looks at them in confusion as Jake laughs and says, “He’s got your number, honey.”

 

“Ha!” Clarke laughs. “More like I’ve got his.”

 

“Case in point,” Bellamy says.

 

“I’m going to go ahead and say you’ve got each other’s,” Jake says.

 

Bellamy likes the way this guys thinks. He thinks he’s going to like this family.

 

 

**

 

 

They start driving east early the next morning, coffee in their mugs, heading homeward. The driving schedule is the same as the way there, with rotating drivers and sleepers, and this time there’s a sense of urgency about getting back so they can get to work, which is way less fun than the urgency of getting to the river. Clarke’s vacation time is nearly up, and while she had an amazing time in California, she’s actually looking forward to getting back in the clinic. Bellamy and Miller have the new house to start framing. Life is moving on, just like it always does.

 

Clarke had been sad to say goodbye to her parents, but she’s thankful for the limited time she did get to spend with them. She’s happy too that Bellamy got to meet them. Her mom had been as weird as she’d expected. Clarke has always been a little too wild for Abby’s sensibilities, taking control and doing her own thing from a young age. So they’ve never seen eye to eye on Clarke’s decisions.

 

But now that Clarke’s in her late twenties, Abby has become more accepting. And Clarke had made it clear to her mother that Bellamy was here to stay and he was off limits to her criticism. Abby had respected this almost immediately, which Clarke suspects has something to do with the list of “reasons Bellamy is the best” she’d given her mother as soon as they were out of earshot of the others. She swears her mother even cracked a smile by the end.

 

As they pull closer to home, Clarke knows it’s really time for the day-to-day to start. She’s talked a little bit with Raven and Octavia, but she knows they’re waiting for her to get home so they can grill her in person about what happened between her and Bellamy on the Middle Kings. She’d been texting with Wells, too, and knows she owes him a phone call in general so they can get updated on each other’s lives.

 

The girls are waiting when they pull in late the following afternoon, eager to welcome home their roommate.

 

“Girls’ night,” Octavia declares, giving Bellamy a strong look. “At least for the next few hours. You go home and get cleaned up, we’ll let you know when we’ve finished with her.”

 

After unloading her things, Clarke walks Bellamy back to his truck. It feels strange to be parting for the first time in over a week.

 

“I’ll call you later?” she says as he pulls her into his arms.

 

“Sure,” he says. “You have fun with the girls.”

 

“This is going to be weird tonight, being apart for the first time in so long,” Clarke says. “We’ve been together for, like, hundreds of hours straight. It’s a miracle we haven’t killed each other, really.”

 

“I think the circumstances were special enough to ward off any murderousness,” Bellamy replies.

 

“Good timing for a honeymoon phase, then, during the throes of an intense trip,” she says.

 

“Like I said, our timing is terrible, but there are certain things we get spot on,” he says.

 

“I’m going to unpack and get settled back in here and stuff,” she continues, “but what would you think about me maybe driving out to your place later?”

 

“I think I like that idea _a lot_ ,” he responds. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in your own bed, though?”

 

Clarke shrugs. “I’d rather sleep in your bed with you. Honeymoon phase and all. And you live alone, which means we can be as loud as we want.”

 

He grins wolfishly before leaning down and kissing her, and she wraps her arms around his neck and rises into him on her toes. They don’t break apart until Raven whistles at them from the porch.

 

Octavia and Raven are taking girls’ night seriously. They let Clarke take her time showering, unpacking, and putting in a load of laundry, but the minute she shuts the door on the washing machine, Octavia is waiting for her with a glass of wine and an anticipatory grin on her face.

 

“Are you ready to hang out now or what?” Octavia asks.

 

Clarke smiles, loving the excitement that the younger girl refuses to hold back. While the Blake siblings share a lot of mannerisms and personality traits, Octavia is quicker to reveal her feelings, be they good or bad. It dawns on Clarke, not for the first time, that this new thing with her and Bellamy is going to change things between her and Octavia. Not necessarily in a bad way, but change nonetheless.

 

“I’m ready,” she says, and lets Octavia take her downstairs. They’ve cooked a nice meal and gather on the back deck to eat it, enjoying the beautiful summer evening. They ask Clarke about the river first, which she suspects they planned ahead of time so as to leave the good stuff for last, and she loves telling them about the process, the rapids, the things that were amazing and the things that were incredibly hard. They both paddle, so they understand. Clarke is thankful for the millionth time in her life that she has women she can share and talk about her experiences with, too. She can’t wait to meet up with Anya and fill her in on everything.

 

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Octavia says once they’re clearly getting into the gossip part of the evening. “I am one hundred percent here for hearing about your feelings and your relationship details and whatnot. When it comes to your sex life, however, I ask that you try and be sensitive to the fact that little sister ears are listening? Like, none of the dirty stuff, please. He’s my brother.”

 

“I, on the other hand am one hundred percent here for _all of_ the dirty stuff,” Raven says. “That man is fine as hell and I want to know exactly what he can do with his—“

 

“Raven!” Octavia protests.

 

Raven laughs. “Fine, we can save that for when O’s not around. Okay, I am so glad you are home, Clarke, and can give us the actual story behind what happened, because I’ve been relying on Wick for information and he is terrible at it. He basically was like, ‘They were both grouchy one night and went for a walk and when we woke up they were spooning.’ Although he did say Bellamy was the little spoon? Is that true?”

 

Clarke blushes, the first of many she’s sure she’ll experience during this conversation. “Yes,” she answers. She doesn’t mention that, now that they’re finally getting some time together in real beds, she’s starting to find that she likes curling up against him from behind when he’s still sleeping, and he seems to like it too, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer against him. They don’t need to hear all of the little details just yet.

 

Octavia bursts out laughing. “Of course he likes being the little spoon! Ugh, he tries to be such a tough guy, like ‘I’m gonna build this house’ or ‘I’m gonna run this scary waterfall’ but he’s really just a big old softie who wants to be cuddled. What a dork! You guys are going to be such dorks together!”

 

Raven is smirking. “So Wick does have some credibility. But seriously Clarke, you’ve gotta fill me in on what happened. Because the last time I checked, you were all ‘No! We’re not fucking and I’ve never even thought about it! Set me up on a blind date, Octavia!’”

 

She does the last part in her “Clarke voice,” which is high pitched and silly sounding, eliciting more laughter from Octavia.

 

“It’s true Clarke,” Octavia says. “You gave us little to no warning that this was coming. Well, I should say that _you_ gave us no warning. My brother, on the other hand, has been openly acting like a fucking idiot about you for months, at least in front of me.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widen. “Really?” She knows they’re close, and Bellamy has alluded to the fact that Octavia has been supportive of him, but she’s not sure exactly what Octavia already knows.

 

“Totally,” Octavia continues. “I mean, I suspected something was up with you, too, after you asked him to be your date to the wedding—great job with your non-date date, by the way, looks like that went _exactly_ as planned, _not_. But I didn’t want to bug you too much about it before I got the scoop from him. And the minute I asked him about it he was like, reaching for the hard liquor and making the broodiest faces, so that’s when I knew something was up for real.”

 

“Great to know I drove him to drink,” Clarke says ruefully.

 

“Honey, he drove himself to drink,” Octavia says. “He could have just told you he had feelings for you months ago, when he figured out he did. But no, he had to hold it all inside and be all angsty about it while he let you, like, find yourself and shit.”

 

Clarke feels a rush of love for Bellamy and the patience he has always exercised with her. “He could have, but he didn’t want to scare me, and I appreciate that. I think we were both really scared, that’s why it took so long. We were so close, spending so much time together, the thought of changing any of that by throwing feelings into the mix was really intimidating.”

 

“So you were internalizing all this stuff the whole time too?” Raven asks. “When did you finally figure out you were into him like that?”

 

Clarke stops to think about it. “Well, I knew for sure I had some pretty major feelings by the time we went to the wedding, but I had no idea what they were—whether I was just really horny or actually falling in love with him—and _no_ idea what to do about them. So I got drunk and—“

 

“And you asked him about the kiss!” Octavia interrupts, unable to contain herself.

 

“What kiss?” Raven asks eagerly.

 

“You know about the kiss?” Clarke asks.

 

“The hard liquor, remember?” Octavia explains. “Bellamy will tell me anything when he drinks bourbon. I still can’t believe you kissed him in the yard that night, and that _neither_ of you said a peep about it until like two months ago.”

 

Clarke looks at Raven, who is still confused, and says, “I kissed Bellamy the night I broke up with Finn. It was… pretty stupid in hindsight, and inappropriate, and—“

 

“Oh, cut the self-torture, Clarke. You both loved it, you just had bad timing,” Octavia says.

 

Clarke is blushing again, and Raven is laughing. Clarke senses a pattern.

 

“Anyway,” she says sternly. “That happened. And I didn’t say anything because he was dating someone else at the time, if you remember, and I didn’t know that until afterwards, and I felt like a jerk about it.”

 

“I’m still confused about what this has to do with being drunk at the wedding,” Raven says. “And also, _of course you kissed him like that_ , that is such a Clarke thing to do. Oh my god, Bellamy must have freaked out.”

 

“He was really calm about it, actually,” Clarke says. “And for a long time I was able to compartmentalize it and not think about it. But I started thinking about it more and more throughout the winter and things were just—changing between us, I don’t know how to describe it. So at the wedding I got all drunk and—sorry Octavia—Drunk Clarke decided somewhere along the line that she maybe wanted to have drunk wedding sex with Bellamy afterwards.”

 

“God, I love Drunk Clarke,” Raven comments.

 

“But when I tried to execute my plan, I somehow decided it would be a good idea to bring up the kiss, because it had just been this undiscussed thing between us for so long,” Clarke continues. “But before I could even finish the question, that stupid thunderstorm started and then everyone was running around in a panic and the moment was lost.”

 

“That storm thwarted so many efforts to get laid that night,” Raven says. “Monty still feels guilty about it. I can’t believe he hasn’t apologized to you yet, actually.”

 

“Whatever, that wedding was perfect,” Octavia says. “And if people want to get laid that bad, they’ll work for it, no matter what the weather’s doing.”

 

“Okay, so if you were so ready to jump Bellamy’s bones, why didn’t you do it after that anyway?” Raven asks.

 

Clarke sighs. “I don’t know that I was really ready, actually. I mean, Drunk Clarke was ready, obviously, but Sober Clarke was not. And then all that shit happened on the Raven Fork, and I was so mad at him for jumping in and almost getting killed that I just turned into this ball of rage and trauma and needed to be alone for a while.”

 

“Which you did very well,” Octavia says. “I still think you’re a lunatic for running around the woods like that.”

 

“Hey, it paid off very nicely when I smoked all the boys on the hike into the Middle Kings,” Clarke says with a smile.

 

“Nice work,” Raven says. “I wish I could’ve seen their suffering faces as they huffed and puffed their way over that pass. Well, mostly just Wick’s suffering face. I can’t believe you didn’t take a picture for me, Clarke.”

 

“Next time,” Clarke says.

 

“Okay, so you don’t hang out with my brother for a month, and then you’re suddenly around him constantly, in the car and on the river,” Octavia says. “At what point did he stop being an idiot and finally kiss you?”

 

Clarke laughs. “Well, it took a little while, because I was with him constantly, but I was also with Miller and Wick and the other guys constantly, too. There is basically zero time to be alone on that kind of trip. But the day before we ran the Bottom Nine, I got worked pretty hard at the bottom of a huge slide, and it triggered some stuff from the whole Raven Fork experience. I basically just got sick of everyone and sick of myself, so I hiked upriver after dinner until I found a good spot to mope around alone, and Bellamy found me there.”

 

“Bellamy is really good at moping around, he has like a sixth sense about that,” Octavia says.

 

Clarke can’t help but laugh about that, because she loves him, and it’s true.

 

“So this is the grouchy walk part of Wick’s story,” Raven says.

 

“Exactly,” Clarke confirms. “And it was grouchy. We fought a bit about the Raven Fork—it’s hard, dealing with that kind of experience. I honestly think it’s still an ongoing process, healing from that. But at least we finally told each other how we felt about the whole thing.”

 

“That’s really good, Clarke,” Octavia says earnestly.

 

“But it turned into a larger conversation, about how things had been weird with our friendship for a while, and he finally was like, ‘Are you going to finish that question from the wedding or what?’”

 

Octavia and Raven are both listening eagerly now. “Were you expecting that?” Raven asks.

 

“No!” Clarke says. “But I’d been thinking about it, of course, because there was just this cliffhanger of feelings after the wedding, and I knew at some point we’d have to deal with it. We were both tired and cranky and suddenly in this really serious discussion, and I figured it was now or never. So I asked him if he ever wondered what it would be like if we kissed again, and he said, ‘yes, pretty much constantly.’”

 

Octavia smiles and pretends to swoon. “Ah, the poetry,” she says sarcastically, and the she starts cackling. “’Pretty much constantly.’ What a dork. You must have lost it, though.”

 

“I was shocked,” Clarke says. “I seriously had no idea he’d been holding all this stuff inside. Which, in hindsight, is ridiculous, because I was spending so much time with him. But I guess I just got to the point where I couldn’t read that kind of thing with him. I was so used to the friendship, that stuff just came off as him being in a shitty mood.”

 

“What did you say back?” Raven asks.

 

“Well, once the words sank in, I couldn’t really form sentences, so I was just stammering like an idiot and he leaned in and kissed me.”

 

This time Octavia swoons for real. “He saved you from your bumbling self,” she says. “That is so romantic.”

 

“It was, actually,” Clarke says, and she can’t keep the smile off of her face as she remembers the moment, when so many things had finally slid into place.

 

“So what happened next?” Raven asks.

 

Clarke looks guiltily at Octavia. “Well, there was more talking, but it escalated pretty quickly into full-on making out and then, well. Given that there are little sister’s ears listening, I should probably skip to the part where Wick woke us up the next morning by being a jackass.”

 

“Thank you,” Octavia says.

 

“So in the middle of a fucking river canyon with next to no privacy, you two managed to find a place to get it on?” Raven asks.

 

Clarke’s blush is tomato-red by this point, she’s sure. “We’re very… determined people.”

 

Raven gives her a big, smug smile and raises her hand for a high five. “Right on, lady. Don’t worry, I’ll get all the nasty details out of you once little miss sensitive sister is out of the way.”

 

Octavia pouts. “I hate you guys. But I love this story. So you guys are in love for real now, right?”

 

Clarke looks at her like it’s obvious, but she supposes it still is so new that everyone is wrapping their heads around it. “We are,” she says, and it feels good to say it. “I… part of it feels like it’s happening so fast, but we’ve known each other for so long, a lot of it seems to be falling into place pretty easily. I’ve never been in this situation before, I’m not sure how it’s supposed to work.”

 

“I don’t think it has to work any particular way,” Octavia says, and she gets up to hug Clarke. “You guys are going to be great together. I’m so happy for you, seriously.”

 

Clarke hugs her back. “Thanks, Octavia.”

 

“So what happens next?” Raven asks. “I mean, beyond you driving to his place later tonight, which I know you’re dying to do.”

 

“Is it that obvious?” Clarke asks.

 

Raven smiles at her wickedly. “I know you, Clarke. Now that it’s finally on and you’ve got unlimited access to sex, you’re going to make the most of that.”

 

“Sister listening!” Octavia says. “Ugh, this is going to take some getting used to. But seriously, she’s right, Clarke. What does happen next, though? Besides the stuff I don’t want to hear about.”

 

“I don’t know,” Clarke says. “I mean, I think we’re both nervous about the fact that we’re starting a relationship, because there’s so much big stuff that comes with that. But we’re in it together. As long as we keep communicating, keep doing the things we’re good at, when it comes to one another, we can figure it out. It’s really about taking it a day at a time, I guess.”

 

She keeps thinking about this as she drives to his place later, a content smile on her face as she blasts Joni Mitchell on the stereo. A day at time. They can do this.

 

 

**

 

 

Things fall into place after that. Day by day, the realities of being in a relationship come together, and while not everything is easy, it turns out that having a strong foundation of friendship at the base does help when navigating the more unknown aspects of the things that come their way.

 

They establish a routine fairly quickly, which it turns out is a lot like the routine they’d established before, when they’d started running the Green together on a regular basis, except now they’re waking up in the same bed for dawn patrol. Clarke spends most nights at Bellamy’s house, because it turns out that privacy is really nice thing to have, especially when establishing a relationship.

 

On weekdays when they run the Green, they have breakfast and make coffee together before driving to the takeout in their separate vehicles—they each still have to go to work afterwards anyway—and following the same pattern as before. He touches her more openly now, little things like giving her a kiss before they put on the water or lacing his fingers with hers briefly for a quick squeeze of the hand before one of them pulls out of the eddy above a big drop. They aren’t training for anything in particular now, other than the Green Race, so when they decide to run things on the weekends, the stakes aren’t quite as high.

 

The exception is when they got back to the Raven Fork the next time it runs so Clarke can find some redemption. She makes sure they get a full night’s sleep beforehand, and that she stays focused and calm, and the run goes well. Bellamy holds her more tightly than usual when he hugs her at the takeout afterwards, and makes loves to her that night with an intensity she can’t quite place until she asks him about it afterwards and he says, “I’m just so happy we buried some demons today.”).

 

Clarke doesn’t plan on it, but she moves in with Bellamy about three months after they get together. She’s been spending most nights at Bellamy’s, but she still pays rent and has her room, and she’s good with the way things are. It’s part of her independence. She’s happy with it, he’s happy with it. What happens is that other people get involved.

 

It comes about one night when everyone is over at Bellamy’s house to watch a screener of Marcus’s latest film, which contains a segment on their Middle Kings trip. The footage he’d gotten of them running the southeastern creeks had already been released as web content, but the Middle Kings footage he had saved for the real movie, which he plans to debut at an outdoor film festival later in the year. Clarke rolls her eyes every time she shows up on screen, but she has to admit she looks pretty badass out there in her bright green kayak against the crystal blue water and granite backdrop. It really was a magical place, and for so many reasons.

 

Octavia corners her and Bellamy in the kitchen afterwards, with Lincoln in tow. Clarke recognizes her expression as her _serious talk_ face, and as she looks between Octavia and Lincoln she wonders if this is going to be some kind of announcement that might make Bellamy lose his cool.

 

She’s debating the different methods of managing his reaction to _engagement scenario_ versus _pregnancy scenario_ when Octavia cuts into her thoughts and asks, “Have you guys thought about moving in together?”

 

“What?” Clarke asks, completely surprised. She looks at Bellamy, who looks just as surprised as her, and they both shrug.

 

“Not really?” Bellamy answers.

 

“Well, I’m just bringing it up, because Lincoln and I are moving in together, and we need to make some decisions.”

 

“Wait, _what_?” Bellamy asks, and this is a scenario Clarke hadn’t considered, but luckily it’s mellow compared to the other ones.

 

“Octavia, that’s great!” Clarke says, because she is happy for her friend and Lincoln. “But what does that have to do with us moving in together?”

 

“Well, we’re considering a few options about where to live. Lincoln’s place or our place. Lincoln’s place would be fine, but it’s pretty small, and we both really love our place, like the neighbourhood and the house and everything.” Octavia pauses to grab Lincoln’s hand where he’s standing. “And I was thinking that, if you guys were going to move in together eventually, you would probably move into Bellamy’s house. And if you did that, Lincoln and I could take your room, Clarke, and turn my room into an office.”

 

They both just stare at Octavia, and then Clarke says, “Well, that does make sense, I guess, if you guys want our place.” She looks at Bellamy, and then back at Octavia. “But we really haven’t really talked about it yet.”

 

“You sleep here every night already,” Octavia says, entering full-on selling mode. “And you love this house. I know you love this house! This could be _your yard_ , Clarke.” She turns to Bellamy and pokes her finger into his chest. “And _you_ , I know you’ve already thought about this. You probably already have empty drawers in your dresser waiting for Clarke’s clothes.”

 

Clarke laughs, and she wonders, actually, if Octavia is right. Bellamy is blushing slightly and looking at the tile job with a little smile on his face and she decides she should probably check out the dresser later. The idea of him thinking about it, wanting it, makes her heart flutter. She loves her independence, but she also loves Bellamy, deeply, and she knows they’re heading in this direction eventually. She’s thought about it too, if she’s being honest with herself.

 

She touches his arm, pulling that small smile to her. “What do you think? Should we sleep on it?”

 

They do sleep on it. She brings over her first box of things the following night.

 

 

**

 

 

Bellamy doesn’t plan on it, but he finds the ring about six months after they move in together. He’s not actually looking for a ring or anything. At least not _actively_ , he’s sure. If he clicks the link to the website of a local jeweler whose stuff he knows Clarke likes, it’s just out of curiosity. And then five clicks later, it’s right there in front of him. The perfect ring for Clarke.

 

It’s a diamond solitaire, nothing extravagant, nestled in a setting that seems to flow like water from the band to hold the stone. It’s beautiful, it’s _her_ , and it terrifies him. He wants to marry Clarke. He knows this, he’s known this for a while. By this point in time, his list is infinitely long and bears the title _Reasons that Clarke is the Love of Your Life and It’s Astonishing that You Ever Doubted This._

But the timing of when he’ll ask her has yet to be determined. Things have been good between them as they’ve moved in together and truly become partners. Clarke seems happy with the way things are. He’d always figured he’d wait until they got to their one-year anniversary and then start thinking about asking, for real.

 

But the ring has other ideas. It just jumps out at him and demands that he deal with this issue now instead of later. And after he buys it, what’s even more terrifying than finding the ring is the speed with which a plan comes together in his head about when and where to give it to her. It’s March now, spring in full force, and the first time they’d met each other had been on the Green, in March, eight years before. The perfect place to propose to Clarke, he thinks, would be in the eddy above Gorilla on the anniversary of the day they met. God, he is such a sap, but he doesn’t care. Once the idea is in his head, he can’t let go of it.

 

He calls Miller.

 

“Is it too early for me to propose to Clarke?” he asks. “I was going to wait until we’d been dating for at least a year, but this fucking ring jumped out at me and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

 

“Wow, Bellamy Blake calling me for proposal advice,” Miller says with a chuckle. “I can’t wait to tell this story at your wedding.”

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Is it too soon?” he asks.

 

“Do you love her and want to spend the rest of your life with her?” Miller responds.

 

“Of course I do, dumbass. That’s why we’re in this situation,” he replies.

 

“Do you think she feels the same way?”

 

Bellamy thinks of her and his heart swells and nearly explodes when he thinks of her being his wife. His _wife_. “I think so,” he says. “I mean, we’ve talked about how we both know it’s heading this direction. We haven’t talked about getting married specifically, though.”

 

“Okay, well, I think that if you love her and you want to be with her, and you guys are on the same page, then you should just do it, man. Just ask her. There’s no such thing as too soon when you’re right for each other, that’s just society’s bullshit talking.”

 

Bellamy lets out a breath. “I’m glad you think so, because I already bought the ring.”

 

Miller laughs. “Of course you did.”

 

“Also, if I’m going to do this, I need it to happen really soon. You don’t by any chance remember the exact date in March when we were on the Green and ran into Clarke and those guys for the first time, do you?”

 

Miller doesn’t remember, and Bellamy has to get creative by Googling old calendars from the school where Clarke went to college and then figuring out when spring break would have been that year. He’s able to narrow it down to the week, and then he triangulates with Raven, too, and finally ends up checking with Wells after Raven is just as useless as Miller. They’d met when Wells came through Arkville on business back in the fall, so it wasn’t too weird for Bellamy to email him, even though he’s sure the question came off as really strange. Wells, it turns out, has a great memory, and is able to provide the exact date. Bellamy makes all of them promise not to tell Clarke he was asking about it.  

 

The day comes this year on a Tuesday, and thank god the Green is running, Bellamy thinks, otherwise he would have had to convince her to hike into the gorge and up to the eddy, and that would have been a much harder sell than dawn patrol. He’s been hiding the ring in his wood shop, and while Clarke is making breakfast, he ducks out to grab it and make sure it’s packed safely inside one of the drybags of gear he carries in the back of his kayak.

 

He’s nervous the entire drive to the river, and he cranks the radio when Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” comes on, the morning classic rock block hitting all the right points for him. He’s nervous, but he’s also more excited than he’s ever been about anything in his life. This is it. The day he’s going to ask Clarke to marry him. He thinks again of that day eight years ago when he first laid eyes on her. He wonders if a part of him knew even then that she was it for him. It certainly wasn’t a conscious part, but the seed of something between them had been planted, and now, well, here they are.

 

The weather is nice for early spring, and Clarke is chatty that morning, excited about things going on at the clinic right now. Bellamy does his best to listen to her and try not to think about the little black box that’s burning a hole in the back of his boat, and it’s not easy. They run the river like they always do, and when Bellamy finally pulls into the eddy above Gorilla, his stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl up inside of his heart.

 

He signals for Clarke to stop and paddles to the edge of the eddy, where he pulls his sprayskirt and starts climbing out of his boat.

 

“What are you doing?” Clarke asks in confusion. They rarely stop here, typically just running right into the rapid.

 

“Uh, I need to just… give me a minute,” he says, and then he has to turn away from her because he’s sure his face is ridiculous right now and she will instantly know something is up.

 

“Are you okay?” she asks as he yanks the drybag out and opens it to retrieve the ring.

 

“I’m good,” he says, snapping the lid open to look at it one more time before tucking it between his life jacket and his chest.

 

He takes a deep breath and turns to her.

 

“Do you need a bathroom break or something?” she asks, and he bursts out laughing at the absurdity.

 

“No,” he says. Fuck, he is _nervous_. And he’s just standing above her now, looking down at her awkwardly, and isn’t it supposed to be the other way around with this proposal thing?

 

“So… it’s March,” he says. And then forgets what he was going to say next. This is going well so far.

 

“It is,” she says.

 

“Well,” he continues, “eight years ago, in March, we met each other for the first time. On this exact day, in this exact place.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widen. “Oh my god. Really? Eight years ago _today_? You remember the exact day?”

 

“I had help. But yeah. It was today.”

 

Clarke looks around, a happy smile spreading across her face. “It was here. You were sitting right here, scowling at me.” She looks back at him. “I can’t believe you figured out the exact day. Now we have an anniversary date for the first time I called you a jackass.”

 

Bellamy laughs. “I deserved it,” he says. And then he takes another deep breath as his heart hammers, because it’s time. “Look, I’m pointing this out because I love you. So much. I think a part of me has loved you since the first moment I saw you. And I want to keep loving you, for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” He gets down on one knee next to her boat, and now her eyes are fully wide. He pulls the box out from behind his life jacket, opens the lid, and says, “Clarke Griffin, will you marry me?”

 

Her lip trembles and he’s terrified for a second that he’s made her cry, but when the tears do spill over, they’re happy ones. “Yes,” she says, her voice hoarse with emotion, before she regroups and continues. “Oh my god, Bellamy, _yes_ , of course I’ll marry you.”

 

She pulls her sprayskirt and scrambles out of her boat and into his arms, pulling his head down to hers in a passionate kiss. Bellamy’s heart is singing now, because _she said yes_. He goes to pull her closer and remembers that he’s still holding the ring, and he pulls back.

 

“Wait, Clarke, the ring,” he says. Of course Clarke is the kind of woman who says yes to a proposal and completely ignores the ring.

 

“Right!” she says, laughing and looking down. She takes the box from him and stares at it. “Bellamy, it’s gorgeous. I just… I can’t even believe this. You know I don’t need fancy jewelry from you.”

 

He can’t stop smiling as he takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto her finger. “I know,” he says. “But I saw it, and it was just so perfect for you.”

 

She looks up from gazing delightedly at her hand with a question in her eyes. “I can’t believe you were ring shopping,” she says.

 

He panics slightly, but sees that she’s smiling. She’s clearly okay with the fact that he was. “Well, I wasn’t really. I was actually planning on waiting until we’d been together for a year before getting into any of this. But this ring sort of found me, and I am so in love with you, Clarke. To the point of stupidity, really, which you’re fully aware of. So when I saw the ring and realized it was almost eight years since we’d met, I knew it was time.”

 

She looks at him, her eyes heavy with emotion again. “I’m so happy you did,” she says. “It’s perfect. Everything about it. I can’t believe the grumpy local I met that day turned out to be such a romantic nerd.”

 

“Hey, you love my nerdiness,” he says.

 

“I love your romance, too,” she says as she leans up to kiss him. They kiss for a while, and it feels so right, being in this place together, coming full circle. The kiss gains heat, and Bellamy can’t help running his thumb back and forth across her left hand—he loves the feel of the ring, knowing that he put it there—but they pull back when they hear the sound of another group of paddlers approaching.

 

“Damn, I was just going to suggest we find a well-placed boulder,” Clarke jokes with a wicked smile.

 

“We’ve got plenty of time ahead of us to go boulder-hunting,” he replies, and leans down for one more kiss before they get back in their boats. “By the way, I hope you’re free tonight, because I booked us a table at Monty and Jasper’s restaurant. I even asked them to put a bottle of nice champagne on ice. Think you can take a break from the cheap stuff?”

 

Clarke laughs. “I think I can handle it,” she says. “And of course I’m free. We’re celebrating our engagement.” She turns to him in wonder, a look of marvel on her face. “Holy shit, Bellamy, we’re engaged.” 

 

“We are,” he says, grinning.

 

Clarke pulls on her sprayskirt, and then reaches for his hand. “I am so excited to spend the rest of my life with you,” she says, and she beams.

 

He can’t help leaning over and kissing her again after he’s pulled on his own sprayskirt. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, either,” he says when he pulls back.

 

“This is going to be the best Gorilla run ever,” she says. “I feel like I’m floating. This is our place.”

 

He nods. “It really is.”

 

“Well, do you want to go first, or should I?”

 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he says, in a teasingly thoughtful voice. “Maybe I should go first and wait for you at the bottom, just to make sure you’re okay.”

 

Her eyes blaze in amusement and she punches him in the arm. “Jackass!”

 

He grins at her. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But actually… do you mind if I go first anyway? I love watching you run Gorilla. I think I fall a little more in love with you every time I see it.”

 

Her love for him shines on her face and she gives him a goofy smile. “Well, when you put it that way, sure, you can go first,” she says in agreement.

 

“I’ll see you down there,” he says, and after grabbing her hand for one last squeeze, he turns to go, knowing she’ll follow soon after.

 

It all lines up. His paddle with the current, his boat with the line, his future with Clarke’s. He’s the luckiest man in the universe, he knows without a doubt. And they’re just getting started.

 

 

_THE END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU, every last one of you, for reading this story and supporting it. It's been the slow burn experiment of my dreams. Come find me on Tumblr at tacosandflowers if you want to hang out! 
> 
> Special thanks to Kristen, who sent me this song for inspiration, and it really resonated as this chapter came together: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8inJtTG_DuU
> 
> The Joni Mitchell song Clarke listens to on the way to Bellamy's house: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wq2jhs19_V8
> 
> And, last but not least, Bellamy's proposal pump up music, by the Boss himself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3t9SfrfDZM


End file.
